


Adumbration

by Splix_Archive (splix)



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 47,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splix/pseuds/Splix_Archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan becomes a pawn in a game of Darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adumbration

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Vengeance is Mine](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25548) by Master Ruth/Telesilla. 



adumbration \Ad`um*bra"tion\, n. [L. adumbratio.]  
2\. A faint sketch; an outline; an imperfect portrayal or representation of a thing.

 

Adumbration

Alex

(splix71@yahoo.com)

 

________________________________________

 

Archive: M_A, anyone else please ask.

Category: Angst, AU, BDSM

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Darkness. Evil clones. Kidnapping. Violence.  
Non-consensual sex. Fun for the whole family!

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi becomes a pawn in a game of Darkness.

Disclaimers: O great god Lucas, grant that I may toy with your boys.  
I promise not to rent or sell them, and you can have them back,  
slightly worse for wear, when I'm done.

Feedback: Oh, yes, please, yes.

/this indicates telepathy/

Notes: Sequel to Chiaroscuro Inspired by Ruth's Vengeance is Mine

________________________________________

 

C h a p t e r 1

 

Coruscant.

Epicenter of the Galactic Republic. Seat of peace and justice. Named for the luminescent corusca gem, it is truly the shining jewel of the galaxy.

But even the finest jewels have a flaw. Some are more apparent than others.

Far below the glittering antiseptic surface of the city-planet is another world. Known as the sublevels, it is a place where few decent citizens can traverse boldly. It is populated by the refuse of society: thieves, whores, gangsters, drug dealers, arms smugglers, flesh traders, hired killers; those who do not abide by the laws of the Republic, or the Code of Honor Mercantile.

There are two immutable laws in the sublevels.

The first is Profit.

The second is Survive.

Denizens of the sublevels know danger intimately. They adapt and assimilate,or die. For danger is a daily part of life, as common as air, evident in the furtive hand to hand trade of psychotropics and hallucinogens, in the dusky, enticing smile of a prostitute, in the chill stare of an assassin for hire.

And yet...there is a place worse than this.

Most believe it is only a rumor.

Those who know the truth and live remain silent.

It is below the vast complex of machinery that keeps the planet and its citizens alive. Below the filters, pipes and tunnels that cleanse the air and water, below the power conduits and fuel lines, close to the raw crust of Coruscant lies the Tombs.

No one has ever ventured willingly into the Tombs. Those individuals hapless enough to become lost in the maze of tunnels leading to the Tombs are never heard from again. Indeed, they are barely spoken of again, if the tunnels are their last known location. Best not to think of the nightmares suffered, if rumor is to be believed.

And so the spectacle of a hooded figure carrying the bound, unconscious form of a Jedi Knight Apprentice into the tunnels is pointedly ignored by those who dare to venture close to the entrance of this labyrinth.

Best not to think of it, after all.

 

________________________________________

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt in the center of his bedroom, trying and failing to meditate. He sat back on his heels, rubbing his eyes. Despairingly, he tried again, fingering his string of beads, feeling the Force flow through him--not smoothly, as usual, but chaotically, dipping and lurching, making it impossible to find his center. For days he'd been tormented by thoughts of his master, thoughts he'd managed to quell, with varying degrees of success, for years.

At the age of twenty-two, he'd finally found a measure of peace within himself. A few short years to Knighthood, and then, Force willing, he'd find the courage to reveal his feelings to Qui-Gon. A Jedi is patient, he'd counseled himself endlessly. I can wait. And yet these agonizingly erotic images had flashed through his mind for days, distracting him, making it difficult to even look Qui-Gon in the eye. He'd been blushing with annoying frequency, so much that Qui-Gon had asked him if he was feeling ill. Which naturally caused Obi-Wan to flush even more brightly. To cover up, he'd said that he was feeling a little dizzy, and thought he'd lie down for a bit. Qui-Gon had raised an eyebrow and advised Obi-Wan to make a visit to the healing dome.

Obi-Wan sighed and stood, still clutching his meditation beads. He decided to eat, then go to training hall and find a sparring partner. Qui- Gon was in a closed session with Master Koth and wasn't due back for a few hours. He walked into the common room and froze suddenly as a figure stepped into the soft light above Qui-Gon's chair.

Gods...

Obi-Wan stared in absolute shock at the man who stood before him.

But for his black garments and his long hair, a sigle braid plaited tightly against his head, the man could have been Obi-Wan's twin. Was his twin. The Jedi took in the face...the summer-sea eyes, the straight nose, the dimpled chin... Astounding.

The man stood relaxed, arms at his sides, a slight smile curving the corners of his mouth.

Was it a droid? Obi-Wan wondered. An amazing technological simulacrum, a marvel of machinery and plastiskin? A colossal joke?

No. The man was a living being, human--not machine. Obi-Wan extended a thin trail of Force toward the man, probing, and recoiled at the Force signature that he touched.

It was--frighteningly--almost exactly like his own, but at the core of the signature was Darkness. Darkness, bred deeply, festering. And at the threshold of the man's mind was an open admission of what he was.

A clone. A replicant, not birthed, but grown, covertly, in the tanks long outlawed within the Republic. Grown from Obi -Wan. An eyelash, a drop of sweat, a fingernail paring. Grown at amazing speed, educated in the vats from embryo to adult, decanted with full awareness of the world on which it would be unleashed.

"It is forbidden to reproduce sentient life for any purpose by means of artificial parthenogenesis..."

The phrasing of the statute echoed through Obi-Wan's mind, and his soul cried out in protest against the theft of his cells to make this abomination who stood before him so calmly, smiling, whose aura held the taint of Darkness.

Instinctively, Obi-Wan reached out along the training bond that he shared with Qui-Gon.

/Master!/

The mental cry flared, then dwindled into oblivion.

Fighting panic, he tried again.

/Master!/

There was nothing but silence. Qui-Gon had not heard him. Obi-Wan felt a stab of guilt and fear. He'd neglected the training bond for too long...he'd been apprehensive of Qui-Gon's mind touching his and finding Obi- Wan's love and need...and now the bond was damaged, possibly beyond repair.

The being smiled sweetly, then drew and ignited his saber. Obi-Wan, sick with dread, did the same, dropping his beads. He assumed a defensive stance, forcing his limbs to relax, willing calm...but the dread remained.

"Will you strike the first blow, Jedi?"

The voice, so like his own, horrified Obi-Wan anew.

"Who are you?" His voice was steady, but his heart was pounding wildly.

"Who I am should be obvious, Jedi," the clone said, his smile widening. "I ask you again: will you strike first?"

"I-" and Obi-Wan's saber flew out of his grip, into the clone's black-gloved hand. Swiftly the clone deactivated both sabers and launched himself at Obi-Wan, knocking the young Jedi to the ground, pinning his arms to his sides,hooking his legs around the Jedi's, forcing him flat.

"You're no challenge, Jedi," the clone said mockingly.

Obi-Wan struggled, but the clone was incredibly powerful, his limbs like steel. He easily resisted Obi-Wan's efforts to throw him off. The young Jedi then called upon the Force, coiling and pushing outwards to dislodge his assailant, but the concentration of Force was met by the clone's mental wall, which seemed to collapse liquidly into Obi-Wan's consciousness and swirl around him, submerging him in Darkness. Obi-Wan gasped, slammed his mental shields up.

Desperately, Obi-Wan opened his mouth to cry out for help, hoping someone would hear him beyond the confines of his quarters. Abruptly the clone's hand clamped down on Obi-Wan's mouth.

"No. No outcries, Jedi," the clone whispered in his ear. "Time enough for that later." With that, the clone leapt to his feet, dragging Obi- Wan up roughly. A gesture, and coils of Force wound around the Jedi, imprisoning his limbs, silencing his vocal pleas. He was powerless to move as the clone disappeared into Obi-Wan's bedroom, returning with his outerrobe.

The clone draped the robe about Obi-Wan's shoulders solicitously, smoothed its folds. It was Qui-Gon's gesture, and the clone grinned as Obi-Wan glared at him. The clone leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Oh, yes, Padawan Knight. I know. I know so many things about your beautiful master. Things I'm only too happy to share with you...eventually."

The clone pulled his hood up, partially concealing his face. He dragged Obi-Wan, who was still pinioned by bands of Force, toward the door.

"Now, Kenobi," he murmured, "We're going to disappear, you and I. I think that I've done an admirable job of restraining you, and it won't do you any good to fight me. You'll only exhaust yourself. Now, Jedi...watch and learn. See the power of those who have given themselves to the Dark Side of the Force."

The door opened, and the pair stepped out.

Obi-Wan felt a brief surge of hope as they made their way through the corridors. Surely anyone who passed them would see his predicament, and aid him.

But he soon saw that no one thought that anything was amiss. Quite against his will, he found himself walking easily, striding through the halls of the Temple. He passed several knights who nodded to him as he bowed slightly.

Can't they at least see it in my eyes? he thought frantically. He wanted to scream, wanted to cry out to each individual who passed him. He grinned at a small group of Padawans who stopped and greeted him.

"Obi-Wan! We're going to get drunk. Care to join?" Cyrinda, a female apprentice whom with he'd grown up in the creche, was speaking. She mimed swigging a drink.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to beg for their help, and was sickened to hear himself laugh. " Not today. I've got bigger plans."

The Apprentices hooted and made lewd noises, and continued on their way, shouting crude advice to Obi-Wan...a joke, as he had a reputation for modesty, if not downright prudishness.

Obi-Wan was faint with terror. The clone was manipulating the Force as they traveled, forcing Obi-Wan into his characteristic easy stride, preventing him from broadcasting his distress...that much was obvious. But the apprentices hadn't even looked at the clone. The being was making himself dim, or invisible, cocooning himself in Force. Obi-Wan may as well have been alone.

They made their way out of the Temple, and into a waiting aircar with opaque black windows. The clone hustled Obi-Wan into the passenger seat. He forced his arms behind his back and bound his wrists with manacles. He locked the Jedi's ankles together with similar cuffs, then pulled a length of cloth from an inner pocket and blindfolded the young man.

Obi-Wan felt another stab of fear as his sight was taken from him, but he also managed to feel slightly hopeful again. The clone couldn't restrain him with Force indefinitely; it must have cost him more than he showed. Stealthily, Obi-Wan focused on his wrist cuffs, envisioned them, began to attempt to work them open. He spoke, attempting to distract the clone, who was maneuvering the aircar into traffic.

"What is it that you want from me?"

"What I want from you right now is silence, Jedi."

"You can't possibly hope to get away with this, whatever your plans are. When the Council learns that I've been--" A stunning blow to the face made him cry out, and bite on the inside of his cheek. Obi-Wan heard the faint sigh of the autopilot engage. The clone grabbed him by the hair, drew him forward.

"When I want you to speak, Kenobi, I'll tell you to speak."

There was a rustling; then Obi-Wan felt hard leather-clad hands wrenching his jaw open. Almost choked as a knotted silken cloth was forced deep inside his mouth, then pulled tight and tied behind his head.

The clone took hold of his tail, pulling his head back. Obi-Wan let out a muffled shout.

"I know you're working on those cuffs, Kenobi," he hissed. "Save your strength."

Obi-Wan felt the cold sting of a needle in his neck.

And then he felt nothing.

 

Chapter 2

C h a p t e r 2

________________________________________

 

...Kenobi...

...

...Kenobi...

...what...

Explosive pain in his leg. Obi-Wan groaned, his eyes snapping open.

"I said, wake up."

His own voice...? No. He remembered now. The clone.

He struggled to a sitting position. It was difficult; his hands were stillbound behind him. Slowly, he took in his surroundings.

He was sitting on a pallet on the floor. His clothes had been replaced with a dark tunic and leggings. His feet were bare, his ankles chained to the wall in front of him. He felt a humming sensation around his neck; without seeing it, he knew that it was a collar, doubtless a Force dampener. His leg throbbed where the clone had kicked him. Reluctantly, he looked up.

The clone stood above him, smiling beatifically. He was dressed in Obi-Wan's Jedi garb...down to the boots and lightsaber. His hair was cropped close to his head, save for a short tail at the back and a long braid falling over his right shoulder, touching his ribcage. Obi-Wan took a closer look and stifled a sensation of helpless rage. The clone had taken his braid adornments...his bead and hair tie. Obi-Wan glanced down. His own braid was unplaited.

No one could have told Obi-Wan from the clone.

He took a deep breath, silently recited the fourth Litany for serenity.

"...Panic has no place in the mind of a Jedi. All of life is a puzzle, which yields most easily to calm and reasoned thoughts. All danger passes...one need only be prepared..."

Slowly, he grew more calm. The clone crouched down next to him, still smiling.

"You're a paragon of Jedi apprenticeship, to be sure, Kenobi. How proud your master must be."

Obi-Wan turned cold, appraising eyes on the clone.

"You can't possibly hope to escape undetected. Whatever your plans are...they will fail, I assure you." His voice was firm.

The clone laughed. "Jedi...I'm going to make things very easy for you."

"I don't know what you mean," Obi-Wan said steadily.

"First things first, Padawan. I've been terribly rude to you, and I apologize. I haven't even introduced myself."

"You're an affront to all that I believe in. No name is necessary."

The clone's eyes darkened in anger, and he stiffened, half-raising a hand as if to strike the young Jedi. Obi-Wan gazed at the clone, unflinching.

The clone lowered his hand.

"I advise you not to provoke me, Jedi. I do."

Obi-Wan was silent.

"As I was saying...I haven't introduced myself. I am Darth Belial."

Obi-Wan looked at him askance. "Darth Belial? You take a lot on yourself."

The clone smiled gently. "Meaning what?"

"That title...an honorific among the Sith."

"You doubt me?" Amused, Belial reached out, cupped Obi-Wan's chin in his hand. Obi-Wan tried to squirm away, but the clone held painfully fast. Obi-Wan fought not to look away; the sight of this malignant being, the very image of himself, was almost too much to bear. And as his claim to be Sith...absurd. The Sith had been extinct for a thousand years.

"You feel that collar around your neck, Obi-Wan?" Belial said softly. "You guessed correctly. It is a Force inhibitor. Your powers are rendered useless. However, I've tweaked it somewhat...you'll be able to feel the Force, but you won't be able to command it. It will be a learning experience for you. Shall I demonstrate?"

It was barely perceptible at first. A nudge, a tickle, like the slight push of an incoming ocean tide. Then more insistently, coolness gradually becoming freezing cold, and the tide rising. Alarmed, he tried to slam his mental shields up, only to find them...not there at all.

NO!

Higher now, rising up and engulfing him, and the cold became searing heat, and cold again; he was drowning, suffocating in oily burning cold. His vision blurred, dimmed, and his universe was fire and frost and his own eyes boring into him...darkness like molten metal, and an image of another, more alien presence...fetid, corrupt, standing at the edge of a precipice, looking down at Obi-Wan, trapped at the bottom. Beckoning to him.

The clone's Master...A Sith Lord. Foul with hate for all that was Light; hate for the Jedi and their desire to serve. Thousands of years of virulence and malice and a lust for power and domination, and the Sith stretched out a hand to Obi-Wan, offering dark glory and power beyond all of his dreams, dreams long buried since before he became a Padawan apprentice.

...See what I can do for you, Jedi...

...no...no..nooo...

A desperate cry, and the clone released his hold upon Obi-Wan's mind. He stood, stepped back, as though to admire the effect he'd wrought on the young Jedi. Obi-Wan fell back on the pallet. His body shivered without end, as with extreme cold; his breath was ragged and harsh, and his body was soaked with sweat.

"Now you know, Jedi," Belial said. "You know who I am, and to whom I've sworn my allegiance. You cannot escape, and resistance will only result in suffering for you. Spare yourself unnecessary pain. Join us."

Obi-Wan, unable to speak, shook his head.

Belial smiled widely, well-pleased.

"Very good, Padawan Knight. Precisely the response I was hoping for." He clasped his hands together, bowed his head over them, as though meditating.

Obi-Wan stared up at him, trying to collect himself.

The clone folded his hands within the sleeves of his--Obi-Wan's--brown outerrobe and addressed the young Jedi.

"Within a few weeks, we shall instigate a wave of assasinations and other acts of terror upon Coruscant and other key worlds of the Republic. Our involvement shall be concealed, naturally, but it will be evident that some kind of conspiracy is behind these actions. Of course, the Senate and other governing bodies will declare a state of emergency, assume special powers, and deploy extraordinary security measures. The citizens of Coruscant and the other beleaguered systems will accept these measures gratefully, even clamor for them. They will accept these proposals, made by certain...key figures, and they will presume that the measures are temporary.

"But as you know, Obi-Wan Kenobi...history teaches us that power, once seized, is seldom relinquished. It is time to sweep the Republic away, and make way for a new regime."

"You can't do this," whispered Obi-Wan, dizzy with shock and horror.

"All the pieces are in place, Kenobi," Belial replied. "One of our first acts will be infiltration of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. A thermal detonator, concealed within the Council Chamber, will take the lives of those most esteemed among the Jedi. They will lose their center, lose their way. The darkness shall come from within...from a young Padawan apprentice."

"NO!" Obi-Wan surged up from the pallet despite his bonds, raging, wanting to kill the smirking bastard that stood so confidently before him, spouting obscenities. A wall of Force slammed him down, and he felt a tightness at his throat.

"I warned you, Jedi. Do not provoke me."

The constriction disappeared, and Belial swung, struck the Jedi a stunningblow. Reached down, freed Obi-Wan's ankles, and dragged him up. Forced him out of the small cell and into a dim, filthy hallway.

"Come, Jedi. I want to show you something."

 

End 2

 

C h a p t e r 3

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon strode into his quarters and shed his robe, tossing it carelessly onto a low couch. He dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

Damnation, he thought. The meeting with Master Koth had not gone well at all. Master Koth had dismissed Qui-Gon after an hour.

"I sense a loss of focus, Qui-Gon. Perhaps we had better leave off until you can discipline yourself more thoroughly." Qui-Gon chose not to respond to the rebuke, but simply nodded, bowed, and left, making his way quickly to his quarters.

Eeth Koth was absolutely correct in his assertion; it would have been pointless to contradict him. Qui-Gon was and had been distracted for some time...longer than he cared to admit.

However, in the past week, the distractions had become unsettling.

He'd been bombarded with images of Obi-Wan that were nearly impossible to banish. Every meditation technique that he'd tried had been a miserable failure. The images had even permeated his dreams, and upon awaking he'd discovered with half-amused disgust the physical manifestations of his arousal.

Perhaps, thought Qui-Gon, it was time to reevaluate his situation.

Nine years. Nine years Obi-Wan had been Qui-Gon's Padawan, and in that time Obi-Wan had grown up...wonderfully. Courageous. Loyal to his master, even when Qui-Gon's restless and sometimes eccentric nature pitted him against the Council. Obi-Wan had become more outspoken in the past few years regarding some of Qui-Gon's more impulsive urges, but that only served to increase Qui-Gon's growing respect for the young man. A pupil who was too willing to blindly follow his master's every whim was a dangerous thing.

And...Obi-Wan had grown in grace. And beauty. Jedi master though he was, Qui-Gon had to turn away occasionally from the sight of his Padawan...the trust and innocence reflected in those fine features was nearly blinding.

Although Qui-Gon treated some aspects of the Jedi Code with an unstudied casualness, he always adhered to the Code in the training of his apprentice. When he first noticed his changing perceptions toward Obi-Wan, who had been seventeen at the time, he'd examined his feelings carefully, initially believing them to be mere physical stimulation. There was no doubt that the awkward youth had become a young man. A decidedly captivating young man.

Though the Jedi Order did not expressly forbid familial or romantic attachments, such were not particularly encouraged, because of the necessity of obedience to the Order. The Order, however, understood that celibacy was not necessarily constructive, and so Qui-Gon, like so many, had had liasons with men and women alike, always schooling himself against making such liasons permanent. As the years passed, he'd come to regard himself as having no need for such attachments; his devotion to the Jedi was absolute.

Qui-Gon had been stunned, therefore, to realize the depth of his feelings for Obi-Wan. It was true that the boy had given him renewed purpose; he'd brooded endlessly since the betrayal of his apprentice Xanatos, and along had come Obi-Wan, with his dauntless courage and boundless optimism, and pulled Qui-Gon, all but unwilling, back from the brink of despairing isolation and loneliness. He'd proved to be all that Qui-Gon could have hoped for, and more, despite his initial misgivings.

Affection and fondness between student and teacher was not unusual, given the close nature of the intense training of a Jedi. And certainly, an extraordinary student inspired extraordinary affection. But there was theCode. And Qui-Gon understood; he understood only too well. A sexual invovement between master and apprentice was forbidden...such might cause instability, a violation of trust and dependence...and there was the issue of coercion.

He understood.

A year passed. Two; three; and Qui-Gon could no longer deny his emotions for Obi-Wan, though he did suppress them rigidly. He had made a grave error once, when Obi-Wan was nineteen. He had probed delicately into Obi-Wan's thoughts while the boy was sleeping, to try to discern if he held any feeling at all for his master. Obi-Wan's shields had risen in alarm, even in his unconscious state, and Qui-Gon had hastily withdrawn, consumed with shame and self-loathing. He'd gone off for two weeks to meditate, with barely a word to Obi-Wan, and returned, resolved not to ever invade his Padawan's privacy again.

Since then, he'd kept his feelings under tight control, and the training bond had suffered; he knew it. Their non-verbal communication had been reduced so that all that remained was a perfunctory mode of communication; it was rather like a malfunctioning comlink. Qui-Gon had tried to compensate by challenging Obi-Wan's ability to perceive the Living Force from within, but there was no substitute for the unique bond that existed between Master and Apprentice. And Obi-Wan had not questioned the wisdom of his master's teaching.

Qui-Gon exhaled deeply. Obi-Wan was blameless. The fault was his own. And in the past week, Qui-Gon had come to realize that he might have done Obi-Wan a grave disservice in shielding himself so heavily. That someday Qui-Gon's foolishness would cause Obi-Wan to meet a crisis for which he was underprepared.

The damage would have to be prepared, carnal imagery notwithstanding. Control yourself, you damned fool, he thought. Transcend your flesh.

But not tonight, he thought, standing and walking to his room. Tonight he would purge himself of the agonizing mental pictures of his padawan.

Tonight he would give himself to abandon.

 

________________________________________

 

Elarec followed Qui-Gon into the bedchamber, unabashedly admiring the sight of the tall figure as he trotted to keep up with the man's long stride. Qui-Gon was far and away Elarec's favorite customer. He was beautiful and obviously educated; Elarec had only had a rudimentary education, but he was smart enough to know a man of culture when he saw one. Too discreet to pry into the man's affairs, he was curious about him nonetheless. He rather thought that Qui-Gon was a Senator or a member of a house noble or royal. Qui-Gon wasn't a brute like some of the men Elarec had to deal with; he always treated Elarec tenderly. And he tipped well.

And he fucked Elarec thoroughly enough for him to enjoy it, long past the time when Elarec thought he'd derive any enjoyment at all from his job.

Qui-Gon's only idiosyncracy...if it could be called that...was his request that Elarec call him "Master". Which certainly was no hardship for Elarec. He'd called others the same, less willingly.

Elarec showed Qui-Gon to a deep chair and knelt before him, kohl-rimmed blue-grey eyes meeting Qui-Gon's with a shyness that was almost real. He knew it pleased Qui-Gon, and he dipped his head in humility.

"How may I serve you, Master?"

Qui-Gon lounged in the chair, gazing at the lithe golden-skinned boy before him. He leaned forward, took the boy's chin in his hand, traced a thumb over a slight cleft there. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Elarec lowered his eyes, but not before seeing a flash of...was it anger?... in Qui-Gon's blue eyes.

"Undress me."

"Yes, Master." Elarec bent to the task, unclasping Qui-Gon's belt andletting it fall. He gently untied the inner strings of Qui-Gon's deep blue tunic and opened it, reverently kissing the broad expanse of chest, allowing his tongue to gently tease one nipple. Elarec's tongue continued up, over Qui-Gon's clavicle, over the black leather thong tied about his throat. He closed his teeth momentarily on the skin of Qui-Gon's neck, smiling at the harsh indrawn breath he heard. He withdrew, bent down again and began to undo the multiple fastenings of Qui-Gon's tall black boots.

Qui-Gon reached down suddenly and grasped Elarec's wrists. Elarec, startled, looked into Qui-Gon's eyes. They blazed, and Elarec gasped as Qui-Gon stood and pulled him up swiftly. Qui-Gon still held Elarec's wrists, pressed up against his chest, and his mouth fastened on the boy's, kissing him deeply and almost painfully.

Elarec was surpised but not displeased by this change in Qui-Gon's behavior. Qui-Gon had always been gentle; indeed, he'd treated Elarec like a precious jewel, always proper and considerate. This, however was entirely new, and Elarec rather enjoyed it. He allowed his mouth to be plundered ruthlessly, pressing against Qui-Gon, feeling the man's erection through the leggings he wore. Qui-Gon kept a grip on Elarec's wrists with one large hand, and the other hand slid down to fondle Elarec's hip...then drifted back to grasp his ass.

Qui-Gon buried his face in the boy's neck and murmured something indistinct. Then again. Elarec strained to hear him. Thought it was a name. He felt an absurd rush of jealousy, and froze for a moment. He cursed himself inwardly, and melted into the kiss again.

Too late. Qui-Gon had pulled away, was looking at him with a curious melange of desire, sadness, and compassion. Nonplussed, Elarec stared back. Qui-Gon gave a little bitter laugh, released the boy, and sat on the bed.

"I'm sorry, Elarec."

"Master?" Elarec was furious with himself, but kept his anger out of his voice.

"I'm afraid I ...can't."

The look on the boy's face made Qui-Gon want to burst into mirthless laughter, but he had no desire to hurt him. He'd realized , even before he'd pulled the boy into the rough embrace, that his days of self deception were over. The boy bore a slight resemblance to Obi-Wan, which was why he had initially chosen him, but no amount of pretending could cloud the truth any longer. There was no help for it; he must confess his feelings to Obi-Wan. His conscience could no longer bear the strain.

Qui-Gon slowly refastened his tunic, retrieved his belt, and clasped it around his waist. Turned back to Elarec, who looked stricken. He felt a deep sorrow for the boy. His life could not have been easy, and Qui-Gon had always tried to treat him with the utmost kindness.

"Have I offended you, Master?"

"Elarec...no, never." He laid a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Master, is there something I can--"

"Qui-Gon." Softly. "Call me Qui-Gon."

"Qui-Gon..."

"You've been wonderful, Elarec. Thank you."

He pressed a huge tip into the boy's hand, left him staring bemusedly at it as he closed the door softly behind him.

Qui-Gon Jinn walked out into the odd purple glow of a Coruscant twilight.

He'd chosen his path.

The Code be damned.

End 3

 

C h a p t e r 4

________________________________________

 

The passage was long and poorly lit, illuminated only by a few suspensor globes. Obi-Wan had little time to make a thorough examination of the corridor, but he noted that the walls were quite old, stone, crosshatched with cracks. Granite slugs clung to the lower portions of the walls, clustered in dozens, their thick hairless bodies pulsing wetly. The floor was stone as well, and dotted here and there with puddles of slimy standing water that more than once nearly caused Obi-Wan to fall, hustled along as he was.

The clone was far from gentle; indeed, he seemed totally unconcerned with his captive's discomfort. He held the Jedi by one arm, shoving him viciously when he slowed or stumbled, ignoring the smoking glare that Obi-Wan gave him.

They'd gone almost a kilometer, by Obi-Wan's reckoning, when Belial finally stopped before a single door, outfitted with a retinal scanner. The clone leaned forward into the reader, still holding the young Jedi's arm in a viselike grip. The tiny light on the scanner changed from red to green, and the door swung open silently. The Sith lord yanked Obi-Wan into the room and pulled him along as the door closed behind them.

The room was huge, cavernous, lit with blistering white diasphatic tubing. It was dominated by a single bank of huge screens that wound around the perimeter of the room. Each screen was monitored--mostly by droids, although Obi-Wan saw a few sentient life forms focused on the activity onscreen.

Most screens were humming with intense, and somehow ominous activity. On one, a platoon of Sargothans performed blaster drills; on another, scores of beings unfamiliar to Obi-Wan swarmed over an enormous unfinished ship of a spade-shaped, menacing design; on still another, a ship that resembled a Trade Federation vessel was being loaded with ponderously large transports. The motion on the screens was so frenetic that it was perhaps natural that Obi-Wan's eyes should have been drawn to the two screens that showed no activity whatsoever...two screens that displayed two separate rooms, both familiar to Obi-Wan, both empty.

Obi-Wan felt a pang of foreboding.

The first room was the Senate Chamber. Obi-Wan had only seen it a few times, but he immediately recognized its striking circular design.

The second room...

The second room was the Jedi Council Chamber.

Belial's eyes followed his and he smiled, delighted at the Jedi's apprehension. He never slowed his pace,and Obi-Wan was obliged to follow or be dragged.

Obi-Wan scanned the beings who monitored the screens. Droids wouldn't be much help, as they were impervious to Force-persuasion. Obi-Wan 's mouth twisted, belatedly remembering the collar around his neck.

Hells.

The few sentient creatures who watched the screens didn't even look up as his captor forced him across the room.

They stopped at another door. A young Zabrakian stood in front of it, loosely cradling a blaster in both hands. If he was surprised at the sight of what appeared to be a Jedi Knight Apprentice shoving his bound twin towards the door, he gave no sign of it. He grinned unpleasantly at Obi-Wan.

The Sith lord glared at the Zabrakian.

"Get out of my way."

The Zabrakian shrugged, stood aside, and allowed them passage.

Belial dragged Obi-Wan through several darkened chambers. Obi-Wan could barely see anything at all; inwardly he marveled at the clone's surety of step.

They came to a single metal door set with a simple bolt. Belial shot the bolt and entered the room, pushing his prisoner inside. Obi-Wan stumbled, fell to his knees, but made no outcry.

The door shut behind them, and Obi-Wan could now barely see the robed form of the clone, whose voice floated out of the darkness.

"Strip."

"What?"

"I said, strip, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. "I can't."

"Why not?" Silkily.

"My hands aren't free."

"Too true, Jedi. Let me assist you." The clone came towards Obi-Wan, hauled him up, and held Obi-Wan's bound wrists in his hands. He leaned forward and spoke softly into the young Jedi's ear.

"Now then, Kenobi," crooned Belial, "You remember that it took very little effort for me to subdue you earlier, and that was when you had the Force at your disposal. Don't do anything foolish, because then I'll be forced to do you grievous harm, and I have no wish to do so...yet. Understood?"

Obi-Wan considered Belial's words. It was true that the clone had overcome him easily, and Obi-Wan's face flamed at the memory. But anyone seeing an exact replica of themselves would undoubtedly be shocked, and perhaps vulnerable to attack, he reasoned. Even now, as he'd had time to digest the notion, he was still revolted. But his thoughts were clear.

Perhaps if his hands were freed, he could overpower the clone with sheer physical strength, get his clothes back, stage a ruse of some kind. Yes, the Force was temporarily beyond his grasp, but there was a possibility...he was torn between his desire for freedom, and his understanding of the need for caution.

In his mind's eye, he saw Qui-Gon. The lessons of his master washed comfortingly over him, and he could almost hear his deep, soft voice...

"One always has choices, Padawan...even with a blade at your throat. It depends on what you truly value...and what you do not."

Darth Belial's fingers dug into Obi-Wan's neck , jolting him painfully out of his reverie.

"UNDERSTOOD?"

Obi-Wan nodded. He would bide his time. He would be prudent.

He would survive.

"Yes."

He held perfectly still as the clone unbound his hands.

"Strip. Now."

Wordlessly and with an economy of movement Obi-Wan shed his clothes. He did not resist when Belial forced him to sit on a chair of smooth wood, bolted to the floor, and quickly, thoroughly, and efficiently bound him to the chair with several lengths of carbon rope.

Belial straightened, turned on a single suspensor globe directly above Obi-Wan's head, and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Obi-Wan was rendered almost totally immobile. His feet were pulled back beneath the seat, his ankles bound to the single column base of the chair. Bands of rope, wrapped above and below his knees and anchored to the rim of the seat, held his legs apart. His wrists were crossed behind the back of the chair and tightly roped together. A short length of cord also pulled his elbows toward each other, forcing his shoulders back. Loops of rope encircled his waist, pressing the small of his back to the chair. More coils wound tightly about his shoulders, upper arms, and chest.

Obi-Wan tugged cautiously at the bonds. It seemed as if each cord were somehow connected to every other...he could not pull at the ropes that restrained his wrists or ankles without causing an increased tightness in them all.

His heart lurched unpleasantly. With the collar round his neck, it would be nearly

(Completely)

impossible to free himself. Once again he called upon the Force, summoned it to him, and once again felt the loathsome fluidity of the clone's Force signature. So not only was he incapable of using the Force, but he was confronted with the Sith lord's mental barrier.

The clone gave him a wide sunny smile.

And now Obi-Wan did start to panic, forgetting his training, forgetting the Litanies for serenity. He struggled, fighting the ropes, unable to prevent a low moan of frustration and dismay at his utter helplessness. The more he strained and writhed, the more the ropes responded with harsh intimacy, biting into his flesh, holding him in a cruel embrace.

Belial snickered at the young man's distress and turned away, flicking on more globes, bathing the room in a sickly greenish-yellow glare.

Obi-Wan stilled himself with tremendous effort, his eyes sweeping the room for anything that might aid in his escape.

The sight of the room, though, was far from reassuring.

On either side of him, against the walls, was rack after rack of dark and twisted implements...some wholly incomprehensible, if vaguely threatening; others whose use was only too plain. More such equipment was neatly arrayed on the end of a bench directly in front of him. Also in front of him, about two meters up, hung a single viewscreen, dormant.

On the floor surrounding the chair were dark stains of varying hues.

Obi-Wan shut his eyes, sent a desperate plea to Qui-Gon.

/Master, help me. I am in great danger./

Again the plea was met by silence.

End 4

 

C h a p t e r 5

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Belial clasped his hands behind his back and began to slowly circle the chair to which Obi-Wan was bound. Obi-Wan refused to look at him, keeping his eyes closed, striving for calm.

"Have you ever been to Sullust, Kenobi?"

The question, a shift in focus, threw Obi-Wan off slightly.

"No."

"Pity. It's possessed of a rather inhospitable climate...the surface is almost entirely volcanic, and most of its inhabitants live underground. The cities of Sullust are incomparably beautiful, though, and every kind of pleasurable vice is encouraged. I suppose it stands to reason that your master would not take you there." He stopped, cocking an eyebrow. "No, the Jedi would hate it there, wouldn't they. In any case, Sullust is where I...grew up, you might say."

Obi-Wan remained silent, wondering where all this was leading.

"My master awaits us there."

Ah.

The Sith lord stared at Obi-Wan, frowning. He sauntered to the bench in front of the Jedi and sat, picking up a durasteel implement with a wicked-looking hook at one end, idly turning it about in his hands, not looking at his prisoner.

"I was to kill you." Let the Jedi chew on that. Belial looked up and saw that Obi-Wan's eyes were open and were watching him unblinkingly, ignoring the instrument in the clone's hands.

"Had I not intervened, you would be dead now, Jedi. My master thinks that you are too dangerous to keep alive. After all, hostages unused as bargaining tools or bait are really so much pointless cargo."

"Your plot will be discovered, and you will be severely punished," Obi-Wan replied quietly. "The Jedi will discover the impostor in their midst...and my Master will certainly be able to detect the differences between us. You are a fool to think him so unskilled in the Force as to not know that you and I are profoundly dissimilar."

"Don't misunderstand me, Padawan. I am well aware of your Master's Force-adeptness. But I am also aware that the training bond between the two of you has been greatly diminished in recent years. Why is that, I wonder?"

"You dare to presume--"

"I don't presume, Jedi. I know. I've had ample opportunity to observe you. Before I ever laid eyes on you, I was schooled in the vat to absorb the full scope of your entire being. There's nothing I don't know about you. And I must confess, I find myself quite taken by you. Of course, I'm grateful to you for my life, but it's more than that, Kenobi. You really are very interesting, for a Jedi. Such complex emotions for one so young, one dedicated to the Light.

"The relationship between you and Qui-Gon Jinn, now...that's intriguing, I think."

"How so?" Icily. Do not engage this being in debate, all his instincts shouted. Silence is the best response. He attempts to draw you out, make you vulnerable. Yet he felt compelled to defend Qui-Gon in his master's absence.

"Well, for instance, it's quite plain that you love each other."

"Naturally. He is my teacher, and my dearest friend."

"Don't be coy, Jedi. It's sickening. You desire each other."

Obi-Wan's face bled of all color.

"What?"

"Oh, yes," Belial said. "I've been watching both of you, you see. It's quite impressive, that Jedi reserve. But feelings are always revealed in the eyes, Obi-Wan, despite the masks you throw up. It's a good thing that none of the Council has seen, or you'd have some explaining to do. Certainly you'd be censured, perhaps even separated."

Obi-Wan gazed intently at Belial, barely hearng his last words, hardly daring to breathe. He searched the clone's face, seeing no deception in the face, his own face, staring back at him.

Was it truly possible...his master...Qui-Gon wanted him.

Wanted him.

A smile spread over Obi-Wan's face then, a smile of love and trust and radiant happiness, and Belial's heart twisted viciously. His next words were spat out contemptuously.

"It's a shame that the Code prohibits the sort of relationship that you desire, is it not?"

Obi-Wan looked up at him then, and his eyes were calmly triumphant.

"I won't be his student forever."

"Determined to obey...the Council would approve. Still...how can you be sure that Jinn will wait for you? He is only a man, after all, and he may grow weary of waiting. In fact, I know that he frequents a particular brothel, fucks a young man that looks like you. It appears that any substitute will do," Belial sneered.

"He'll wait." And Obi-Wan knew that it was true. If Qui-Gon was frustrated, how could he blame him from seeking pleasure in the arms of another, hesitating to upset his apprentice? And Obi-Wan had taken his share of lovers, all the while wishing each was Qui-Gon.

But if they both knew...everything would be different.

Belial's voice, cold and precise, interrupted his thoughts.

"He might, Padawan. Then again..."

Obi-Wan looked serenely at the Sith Lord.

...all danger passes...one need only be prepared...

He would escape. His predicament was temporary. He would warn the Council of the impending danger to themselves and to the Republic.

...I will not fear...

And then...then he would lay his heart bare before his master.

The Sith lord was regarding him thoughtfully. A slow, malevolent smile spread across his features.

"Then again, Padawan Knight...he may not have to wait."

Obi-Wan scowled at him, perplexed. Surely his captor had no intention of releasing him. He would need to rely on his own wits to escape, so what was he talking about, unless...Unless...

"No."

The clone only continued to smile at him.

"No...no..." Obi-Wan shuddered violently.

The clone started to laugh, and Obi-Wan, filled with helpless fury, once again struggled, wriggling like a fish in a net, hissing with pain as the carbon rope cut into his flesh, yet quite unable to stop himself.

"NO!"

Belial's laughter pealed throughout the room, filling Obi-Wan's ears, taunting him as he fought to free himself. Angry tears sprang into Obi-Wan's eyes and he clenched his teeth as he raged at the clone.

"If you touch him, I will kill you, I swear it, I swear." More laughter, and Obi-Wan bit back an enraged sob.

"Kill me, Jedi? Kill me, in anger? A stain on your soul."

"I'd gladly spill your blood, clone," spat Obi-Wan.

Belial wiped his eyes, still chuckling. He walked over to Obi-Wan's discarded tunic and retrieved it, tearing it into strips. He stood in front of the Jedi and rolled one of the strips into a fairly large ball. He seized Obi-Wan's lower jaw in one hand. Obi-Wan shook his head in a spasm of negation and in an attempt to escape the clone's painful grip. The clone merely tightened his hold, and digging into the delicate pressure points on Obi-Wan's jaw, forced his mouth open and stuffed the cloth inside. He tied another strip of cloth over his mouth, knotting it behind his head.

"Careful, Kenobi," Belial said. "Don't choke on that."

Obi-Wan screamed his defiance, but the scream was reduced to a stifled wail, and tears slid down his cheeks.

The Sith resumed his seat on the bench and considered his captive.

"It's not that I think that anyone will hear you and come to your rescue, Jedi. We're far beyond anyone hearing you...or caring. I want to show you how completely I own you. Nothing you do will be without my consent. Your will is not your own. Speech is a luxury, not a privilege."

Two pairs of eyes the same shape and hue met each other squarely; one rebellious, the other contemplative.

"Perhaps I should just cut your tongue out."

Obi-Wan glared at the clone.

Belial shrugged and stood.

"I should thank you, Kenobi...I'm almost surprised that it didn't occur to me sooner. I was simply going to kill Jinn, and make you watch. Of course, I will still kill him, and he'll have no idea that it's not his own beloved apprentice taking his life."

Obi-Wan shook his head, his eyes wild, making smothered inarticulate noises behind the gag.

Belial turned to the monitor bank, switched it on.

An image formed on the screen.

Qui-Gon's bedroom.

"Your Order really has become soft, Jedi. I put that tiny hovercam on your quarters more than a week ago, and you never noticed. Lax," he chided.

"Lucky for you that I did, though," he continued."You'll be able to witness the end result of years of repressed desire...Obi-Wan Kenobi finally gets to fuck his master!" He laughed again.

Obi-Wan pulled futilely at his bonds again. He had to free himself, had to stop this...

The Sith lord moved behind Obi-Wan and leaned down, putting his mouth next to the Jedi's ear. One hand came up to cup Obi-Wan's chin; the other drifted to the young man's chest, fingertips lazily circling his nipple.

"My lovely padawan," the clone whispered soothingly. "So beautiful. So innocent. It's going to be such a pleasure to train you."

Obi-Wan made a noise of protestation.

"Not a pleasure, you say? I disagree."

Obi-Wan tossed his head, trying to twist out of Belial's grasp, hating this forced intimacy, but the Sith lord held him fast, still speaking into the Jedi's ear.

"You are lost, Jedi, as is your once-great Republic. Its days are numbered, and there is nothing you can do to save it."

...no...

"You can submit willingly, or you can resist. Those are your only options. There is no chance of escape, and no hope of rescue. No one will look for you. As far as anyone knows, Obi-Wan Kenobi is performing his usual duties at the Jedi Temple.

"Two choices, Jedi. Either one will bring me pleasure. "

His tongue flickered out, traced Obi-Wan's ear. His teeth nipped the Jedi's earlobe, and his fingers tightened, pinching Obi-Wan's nipple.

"Sweet...like honeyed wine. Lovely."

Obi-Wan's gorge rose.

The clone straightened.

"I'll leave you to meditate on your choice, Kenobi."

He walked to the door, pulling up the hood of Obi-Wan's robe.

"Meanwhile, you'll be entertained. I'll make sure you don't miss anything."

He left, bolting the door behind him.

Obi-Wan threw his head back, let out a muffled, despondent cry. He began to work on the restraints again, attempting to arch his back and flex his limbs. He tried to focus, his fingers curling, seeking a knot or break in the cord.

...there is no emotion; there is peace...

The rope abraded his skin from his frenzied efforts.

...there is no ignorance; there is knowledge...

His body gleamed with sweat despite the dank chill of the room.

...there is no passion; there is serenity...

Tears streamed from his eyes.

...there is no death...

...Master...

...there is no death...

For the first time in his life, he felt the first stirrings of hopelessness.

His eyes fastened on the monitor above him.

End 5

 

C h a p t e r 6

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Qui-Gon was in his bedroom, meditating, when he heard Obi-Wan's quick, light footsteps. He took several deep, calming breaths.

Time to leap from the cliff.

He walked into the common room, seeing Obi-Wan hastily picking up his meditation beads from the floor. The young man turned, smiling at him, then straightened and gave him a short bow.

"Good evening, Master."

"Obi-Wan." A nod. "How do you feel?"

"Very well, Master. I did go to the healing dome as you suggested. I assure you, I am fully recovered." Quick grin. "I'm sorry to have left you so abruptly." 

"Not at all, Padawan. Your health is of the utmost importance." Idiot, he thought. Just say it. His hands were folded within his robe and he dug his nails into his flesh. He felt queasy. I can't do this, he thought. His mouth opened to say something, some banal excuse.

"Padawan."

"Yes, Master?" Did the boy aways have to look at him that way, he wondered. Trustingly, with a respect bordering on veneration...no, not a boy, he corrected himself. A man, in the full flower of youth and beauty, a man grown...nearly a Knight.

Now. No turning back.

"Padawan, I must speak with you."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan nodded deferentially, not moving.

Qui-Gon gestured to the couch. "Perhaps you'd better sit down, Obi- Wan."

"Oh. I thought you'd prefer to talk in your room." He looked abashed, and then added hurriedly, "Unless you'd rather not, Master."

"By all means,"Qui-Gon said, smiling. As he waved his apprentice into his room, he closed his eyes briefly. At least I didn't suggest it myself, he thought. Force help us both.

Qui-Gon sat on his sleep-couch, and Obi-Wan knelt on the floor, settling back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs.

"No, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, distressed. "Sit here, beside me." He'd be damned if he was going to bare his soul while his padawan knelt at his feet. Obediently Obi-Wan unfolded himself gracefully and sat on the couch.

"Padawan," he began carefully, "This isn't going to be easy for me, and I beg your patience."

"Of course, Master." Again that sweet smile.

"You have been a good apprentice, Obi-Wan...no, forgive me, padawan, I give you faint praise indeed. You have been a most exemplary pupil. I could not have chosen a better one. I truly believe that the Force brought us together, despite my resistance to its will, damn stubborn fool that I am."

"Master--" Qui-Gon held a hand up.

"Please, Padawan. Let me finish before my courage fails me."

Obi-Wan's brow knit at that, but he said nothing.

"You have been a constant source of joy to me, Obi-Wan. You have a fine mind, and a dedication to the Order that others would do well to follow. Your grasp of the Unifying Force is remarkable, and in time I know you will master the Living Force as well. You will be a great Jedi."

"If I am, Master, it is entirely due to your guidance." Obi-Wan said softly.

"Obi-Wan, I wish it were so. I have failed you."

"Master?" Questioning look.

"I have neglected our training bond."

Obi-Wan silently lowered his head.

Qui-Gon felt a rush of shame. Obi-Wan had noticed, of course he had. And had not criticized his master for it. Why should he? It was the master's responsibility to maintain the bond, was it not, as one whose Force abilities were superior to a young padawan's.

"Obi-Wan...I am so sorry."

Obi-Wan looked up, and Qui-Gon saw the faint gleam of unshed tears in the young man's eyes. I have hurt him, he thought.

"Master..." Whispered. "I had thought that you were displeased with me...that I was too dependent on the bond..."

Qui-Gon's heart clenched painfully. He reached out, grasped Obi-Wan by the shoulders. "No, Padawan. The fault is mine...entirely. I must tell you why."

Obi-Wan nodded mutely, not looking at him.

"Obi-Wan...over the past few years you have come to mean so much more than a pupil to me."

Obi-Wan looked at him, the expression on his face unreadable.

"I love you, Obi-Wan. Not simply as my Padawan, not just as a pupil. As a man."

There. He'd said it. Gracelessly, but eloquence was superfluous. Plain truth was better. He watched Obi-Wan's face intently.

"You love me," breathed Obi-Wan.

"Yes, my Padawan. In my desire to shield my emotions from you, I'm afraid I damaged our bond, and for that I am heartily sorry. You should have been able to rely on the bond until you are nearly ready to assume the full responsibilities of Knighthood. My actions have done you no good, and I only hope that we can mend the rift before permanent damage is done."

"Master--" Obi-Wan said hesitantly.

"Wait, Obi-Wan, there is more," Qui-Gon said urgently. "I cannot possibly expect you to share these feelings. I confess that I did hope that you would, but the last thing that I want is for you to feel that you must...oblige me...out of a sense of duty." He smiled ruefully. "There are those who say that I ignore the Code when it suits me. Simply revealing my feelings is a serious breach of the Code. To try to coerce you into a physical relationship would surely end my days as a Jedi, and deservedly so."

Obi-Wan stared wide-eyed at Qui-Gon.

"I hope I have not placed an unjust burden on your shoulders with my confession, Padawan. Please know that such was not my intention. I want you to know that I will always regard you with the highest esteem and affection, whatever you think of me--"

Obi-Wan leaned forward, captured Qui-Gon's mouth in a kiss, silencing him.

 

________________________________________

 

In a dark damp prison, below the Coruscant sublevels, a young Jedi sits helplessly bound to a chair. He is unable to move or speak, but his eyes convey all the anguish that the rest of his body cannot as he watches the screen in front of him.

 

________________________________________

 

Lightly, lips brushing over his.

A gentle pressure, increasing fractionally; now firm, now almost painful.

So sweet.

Qui-Gon kept his hands in his lap.

Intensifying and waning, and Qui-Gon finally pulled away, his heart pounding.

"Obi-Wan..."

"Master...how could you possibly think that I'd reject you?" Sea- colored eyes dancing, his expression very nearly gleeful.

"Padawan...are you certain...?"

"Master." Scolding, teasing tone, and Obi-Wan drew him into another kiss, draping his arms sinuously around Qui-Gon's neck. He opened his mouth, teeth gently latching onto Qui-Gon's bottom lip, worrying it gently. Qui-Gon yielded, and their tongues met, twining around each other, tasting each other, first hesitantly, then greedily, drinking in warm moisture. Qui-Gon's hands rose, sought out the perfection that was his Obi-Wan...now, at last, his, his own, nothing to keep them apart, and oh, Force, so beautiful...

Obi-Wan pulled back finally. A long look and he unclasped his belt, letting it fall, his eyes never leaving Qui-Gon's. Pulled at his tunic, and Qui-Gon stood, and began---were his hands shaking?--to divest himself of his clothing, watching Obi-Wan disrobe.

Damned boots.

Fingers flew at layers of clothing.

Finally...

"Obi-Wan," he said huskily, nearly undone at the sight of his naked Padawan, his flesh like pearl. "Let me--"

Obi-Wan knelt on the bed. His hand went to his penis, already half- hard. He looked back over his shoulder at Qui-Gon, wanton, beckoning. Qui-Gon stepped forward, and Obi-Wan arched his neck, licking his lips, his eyes half closed. Qui-Gon bent, kissed his shoulders, his back, his ears; his hands roamed freely, exploring thighs, hips, nipples, one hand finally coming to rest, curling around the hand that held Obi-Wan's cock.

"Master...inside me..." Obi-Wan twisted, knelt forward, his forehead pressed to one hand. The other hand remained on his penis, stroking its swollen length.

Qui-Gon--his hands most definitely shaking--retrieved a pot of scented oil from a drawer, smoothed a few drops over his hand. Obi-Wan groaned, presented himself to Qui-Gon.

"Now...now..."

Qui-Gon gently slid one finger inside Obi-Wan. Then out.

Obi-Wan groaned again.

Two fingers.

Three.

When he was satisfied that Obi-Wan was ready, he knelt behind him, entered him slowly.

"Master...ah...yes..."

Slow...

"Obi-Wan...my..."

Building...

And the pressure, pure need...

Sweet...agony...

Deep and endless, and Qui-Gon seized Obi-Wan's hips, thrusting mercilessly now.

Obi-Wan let out a cry of ecstasy, shuddered violently, and came.

Qui-Gon continued to thrust against Obi-Wan, still holding the young man's hips in a bruising grasp. Threw his head back, and climaxed with a shout, feeling his semen emptied into his padawan's beautiful body.

They both collapsed onto the bed, panting. Qui-Gon collected himself sufficiently to pull out of Obi-Wan and roll over, not wanting to injure the lithe young man beneath him, conscious that he outweighed Obi-Wan by a fair amount.

Obi-Wan shifted, gazed at Qui-Gon. One hand floated up to stroke Qui- Gon's face.

Qui-Gon smiled at him. "I do love you so, Obi-Wan."

"I..." Obi-Wan laughed suddenly. "Master...we should do it again."

Qui-Gon grinned more widely. "So soon, my voracious padawan?"

"Yes. Now. Again. Let's not leave this bed until neither of us can walk."

"If neither of us can walk, my apprentice, then we'll just have to stay in bed."

"Exactly." Another laugh, and Qui-Gon joined in, his hand clutching his forehead, miming exasperation.

"Are you trying to kill me, Padawan?"

Brilliant smile.

"What a lovely way to go." More laughter.

 

________________________________________

 

On the screen hanging above the young Jedi prisoner, the clone lying in bed with Qui-Gon Jinn stretches luxuriously, indolently. He turns his face to the screen and smiles.

"Wonderful."

 

End 6

 

 

C h a p t e r 7

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He didn't want to watch at all.

But there it was, in front of him.

He couldn't help himself in the end.

He had surrendered to anger; he knew that. But the clone had been so thorough, so deliberate.

Obi-Wan knew that Belial was goading him. He'd displayed himself to Qui-Gon like a ten-credit whore; as if he knew that there was no need to entice, that the results of the encounter were inevitable.

That had hurt. How it had hurt.

But it was something that Obi-Wan could have accepted...eventually.

What had driven him to an almost mindless, searing rage was the knowledge that the clone had artfully fed Qui-Gon's guilt at the dissolution of the bond with his pretense at innocence, his whispered hesitant confidences, his tears.

My fault, Obi-Wan thought, still trying, fruitlessly, to undo the knots that held him to the chair. If only I'd told Qui-Gon, if I'd had the courage, that would be me and I wouldn't be here...the knots still held, as they had held the hundred times he'd fought them before.

As Qui-Gon's confession poured forth, he'd used every ounce of his strength and energy into a frantic mental cry.

Master, no, please, I'm here, I'm here, help me, please...

Useless, and he'd finally given up, no longer fighting the ropes, watching as the clone took his pleasure with Qui-Gon, hastily at first, then leisurely, doing everything that Obi-Wan had wanted to do, everything...had Belial stood watch as he slept, he wondered, weaving himself into the threads of Obi-Wan's dreams, taking what he would, anything that would please and arouse Qui-Gon and drive Obi-Wan into sheer misery? There wasn't a detail that Obi-Wan had not envisioned, down to the smallest gesture...a tender kiss to the back of Qui-Gon's hand, fingers carding slowly, softly through the heavy mass of Qui-Gon's hair, a smile...Obi-Wan had wanted to smile so at Qui-Gon. Belial's smile was a cruel mockery, and yet Qui- Gon returned the smile, unaware. Obi-Wan felt a momentary flash of anger towards Qui-Gon, but tamped it down hurriedly. Qui-Gon didn't know, couldn't know, and if they were both to blame for the fragility of the bond, then what right did Obi-Wan have to be angry? Qui-Gon was not to blame.

But though he directed his anger away from Qui-Gon, it remained, not flowing through him and out of him, but gnawing at his insides, growing and turning on itself, ravenous, feeding on the fear that also crept chillingly through him.

Anger at himself for allowing himself to be captured so easily. Anger at not being skillful enough to talk his way out of his situation...though, he reflected, he was given little opportunity to speak at all. Anger at his own weakness.

Anger at the clone.

Hatred of the clone.

Fear.

Obi-Wan had not stopped to contemplate his eventual fate. He was afraid to die, but he was determined that he would meet his death with dignity, when it came.

There is no death; there is the Force.

Once again he scanned the racks on either side of him.

The room was clearly designed to frighten whatever unfortunate victim happened to be occupying its single uncomfortable wooden chair. Obi- Wan willed himself to calm, focusing on the racks of equipment, shutting out the cries of ecstasy that filtered from the monitor above. In a way, his captor's reliance on psychological tricks was reassuring. Whatever Belial did to his body, Obi-Wan's mind was his own. A contest of minds was one that he had a chance of winning.

Winning, yes...but surviving?

That was something else entirely.

What were his choices?

Death or Darkness...

The first choice was terrifying.

There is no death; there is the Force...

What was the life of one Jedi, after all, in the greater scheme? Did he not exist to serve the greater good? Was it not better that he be sacrificed rather than become a servant of Darkness?

Wasn't it...?

He'd faced death before, and acquitted himself as bravely as he could. But not this, never like this...dying in agony, perhaps, with everyone he knew and loved thinking that he was still alive. How meaningless. How ignominious.

He didn't want to die.

He had another choice.

No.

Unacceptable.

How would he escape? How could he warn the Council of the threat to their lives?

And Qui-Gon...

His eyes drifted unwillingly back to the screen.

Belial would kill Qui-Gon. And Obi-Wan would watch. Powerless.

He wept silently, bitter tears trickling from his eyes.

Finally, hours later, he fell into an uneasy sleep, succumbing to exhaustion despite his extreme discomfort and overwrought emotions. He slept, and dreamt.

He was running through a vast dark forest, relentlessly pursued by armies of droids. As he outran each platoon, a new one would snap into formation, begin the chase. They moved with unhurried ease, thousands of them, as Obi-Wan stumbled through the gloom, brambles tearing at his clothing. He called out to Qui-Gon, who sat at the base of an enormous tree, but Qui-Gon could not or would not hear him, so he ran on, his breath coming in agonized gasps. Suddenly he fell, and to his horror saw that he was sinking in a deep pool of mud. Red-robed figures clustered around him as he foundered, whispering and sighing, their voices like the wind. He screamed as the mud rose about his waist, his chest, and he held out a hand to the figures, begging for help or mercy--and a hand did reach out to him, and as he clutched it convulsively, he looked up into the face of his rescuer, saw pale colorless eyes glittering from the recesses of an ebon hood.

Come to me, Jedi...

He awoke with a strangled cry, his eyes flaring open in terror.

Belial stood above him, his face distorted with rage.

End 7

 

C h a p t e r 8

________________________________________

 

"And so he calls you, Jedi."

Belial stood there glaring at him, his face a twisted white mask, his body smelling of sweat and sex.

He turned away from Obi-Wan, his head bent. He rubbed his upper arms over and over, as if he were cold. He breathed deeply. Obi-Wan watched the movement of his back.

Belial seemed to relax. He glanced back at Obi-Wan, and then strode over to the bench in front of the Jedi and kicked it over. Instruments of torture crashed and rattled and uncoiled upon the floor. He kicked it again, sending it slamming into the wall. He stalked over to Obi-Wan and grabbed his tail, yanking his head back sharply. His other hand slid around Obi-Wan's throat, squeezing tightly.

"Tell me, Kenobi," the clone said, his voice a ragged whisper, "Why is it that he calls you? Why? He wanted you dead before. Why this sudden change?"

Belial bit his lower lip, drawing blood. His fingers tightened on Obi- Wan's throat. Black spots danced in front of Obi-Wan's eyes as he struggled to breathe through his nose.

"He claims great foresight, Jedi. He does, he claims it. But he does not see. I showed him," the clone ranted, oblivious to Obi-Wan's frantic gasps for air. "I showed him the potential of taking you, of turning you. What does he hope to accomplish?"

He released Obi-Wan abruptly and sank to his knees in front of him, staring up at Obi-Wan, lifting a hand to stroke the Jedi's face, his fingertips smoothing over the gag. Obi-Wan pulled away, still trying to suck in precious air.

"He thinks to replace me, Obi-Wan. I feel it. He doesn't trust me. But it will not be so. It will not be so. He is the one--" and his face twisted again.

"He wants you, Jedi. But you are mine. Mine. And you and I together..."

Obi-Wan stared at the Sith in horrified fascination.

"He commands us to join him on Sullust, Obi-Wan. What do you think? Should we go? Should we join Lord Sidious? Is it time?" He held Obi-Wan's loosened Padawan braid, coiling and uncoiling it round his fingers. Again and again, pulling harder and harder, and Obi-Wan let out a faint cry--not of pain, but of apprehension.

Belial appeared not to hear him. He continued twisting Obi-Wan's hair, his eyes unfocused. Finally he released the braid and lowered his head into his hands, his elbows digging into Obi-Wan's thighs.

"No, I don't think it's time yet, Obi-Wan. Not yet."

His voice was clogged, muffled.

"I think that you and I will stay here for a while, don't you think, just a while, until we're ready. Both of us. Then we'll go...we'll go..."

Belial trailed off, then fell silent.

He remained still for a very long time, and Obi-Wan wondered if he was actually weeping.

But when he looked up, his eyes were dry, lucid...and filled with glee.

"Did you enjoy watching, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan turned his face away.

"Because I certainly enjoyed fucking Qui-Gon. He's a most considerate lover, you know. He didn't give in to his baser desires, although I could feel them, raging to get out. He didn't give me the pounding that he wanted...that is, he didn't give me the pounding that you wanted.

"I felt you, too. I've become intimately connected to both of you lately. I felt your anger and your hate. You must feel as though you'd come very close to Darkness, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan wanted to weep. Darkness beckoned, and he had stepped towards it, all but embracing it, instead of resolutely turning away.

"You haven't."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed, not understanding.

"Do you really think that, Jedi? Or could it be that the Jedi, all of the council, all the Masters and teachers simply shy away from the truth?"

Belial tugged on the cloth around Obi-Wan's head, pulled it down, and drew the sodden rag from Obi-Wan's mouth, tossing it aside.

"Tell me, Jedi. I'm curious. How close must one come to Darkness before falling to it entirely?"

Obi-Wan licked dry and cracked lips.His mouth ached dreadfully, and his tongue felt swollen and numb. He yearned to stretch his jaw but refused to give the clone the satisfaction of knowing that he'd caused Obi-Wan any discomfort. When he spoke, his voice was a hoarse whisper.

"The path to Darkness is--"

"No! No Jedi wisdom, Obi-Wan. If I wanted to hear that claptrap, I would have asked for a philosophy lesson from Qui-Gon and left you gagged. I want to know what you think. And do try to be original, Obi-Wan. I know that the Jedi stifle individual thinking, but there must be a shred of brain matter that's not completely soaked with that pap they feed you."

Obi-Wan remained silent.

"Hmm. I would have thought that you would have welcomed the opportunity to speak. I do admire your prudence, though I think in this case it's motivated by cowardice. Yes?"

Silence.

"No? Feel free to disagree with me, Obi-Wan, it's one of the few freedoms you'll enjoy. Shall I tell you what I know to be the truth?"

Still kneeling before Obi-Wan, Belial reached out and caressed Obi- Wan's bruised mouth with a finger. Obi-Wan held himself still with effort.

"Momentary bursts of anger don't draw one to the Dark side, Kenobi. If that were true, every Jedi Council member would be well on the path to Darkness. It's perfectly natural to feel all those emotions that the Jedi would deny and repress. Tell me that there isn't a day that you feel anger, or passion, or fear, and I'll know you're a liar. You fight it every day, but you still feel it. Why? Why not give in, surrender yourself to your emotions? There's power in passion, Obi-Wan and yet passion itself does not lead to the Dark side. Nor does ignorance. Not separately, and not together.

"What, then, is the path to Darkness, Kenobi?" Belial's eyes were wide and blue and guileless, his face angelic.

Still Obi-Wan was silent.

"Can't guess? Here it is, Jedi. The answer to the question is knowledge. And free will. Two crucial tenets of the Jedi Code. Is it any wonder that the Jedi fear the Dark so? They are so close. Always. They shrink from it, but there it is."

Obi-Wan spoke then, a single word.

"Liar."

"No, Jedi. I speak the truth. You choose to blind yourself to it. Knowledge. Know hate. Know corruption. Know your passions. Let them guide you. Choose to let them guide you. It becomes effortless after a time. You become responsible only to yourself. Do what you will, Obi-Wan. Please yourself." As he spoke, the clone began to caress Obi-Wan's thighs lingeringly, gently, using only the tips of his fingers. He bent, kissed the tender flesh of one inner thigh. He looked up at Obi-Wan suddenly, his mouth quirking in a smile.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Obi-Wan gritted out from between clenched teeth.

Belial laughed.

"I'm beginning your education, Obi-Wan."

He bent down again and returned to Obi-Wan's thighs. His fingers found their way upwards, lightly scratching Obi-Wan's chest, trailing to his nipples, following the delicate pattern there, smiling when they responded, hardening almost instantly.

bi-Wan shut his eyes. This couldn't be happening, it was so grotesque.

He began a Litany, breathing deeply.

....I will live in fidelity to the Light. I will traverse the path to wisdom...

Belial's tongue darted into Obi-Wan's navel.

....the Light will be engraved upon my soul...

Circling around and around, and now sliding lower.

....and I will not fear...

Lower, to the soft skin above the thatch of red-gold hair.

....I will not...

Lower still.

....I...

Nothing but that mouth, relentless, and the unwilling reaction, his body a traitor to his soul.

"Stop..."

So persistent, and he didn't want this, he didn't, not from this thing...

"STOP!"

Belial stopped.

Obi-Wan was shaking, his body feverish. He glared at the clone.

"I hate you," he said.

Belial wiped his mouth. "Not good enough, Jedi."

He stood, walked over to a shelf, pulled down a simple vibroblade. Cut the ropes binding Obi-Wan to the chair, caught him before he fell bonelessly to the floor. Sat on the floor, Obi-Wan cradled in his arms. He leaned down, pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's forehead. Obi-Wan jerked his head away. It was the only movement that he was capable of. His muscles screamed in protest at the sudden release, used to hours of painful, enforced stillness.

"Let me go."

"Never."

"You'll be caught. They'll kill you when they find out."

"They're not going to find out, Obi-Wan." One hand closed on Obi-Wan's penis, fondling it slowly. The other tenderly massaged the torn and bruised skin of his wrist.

Obi-Wan gasped, humiliated at his weakness.

"Qui-Gon...will try to rebuild the bond...he'll know...he'll..."

"If that happens...which I doubt...I'll simply kill him. I'm going to kill him anyway."

"No."

"Yes. Although I'd like to fuck him quite a bit more. He's really amazing, Obi-Wan. Eventually I'm sure that he'll let go, and then we'll really enjoy ourselves. As it is, I find myself a bit...unsatisfied." Fingers twined in Obi-Wan's hair, and the pressure on his cock increased. "He's bigger than me, and I thought that I was impressively large. What a waste."

Obi-Wan's vision gained a reddish haze.

"Maybe I'll fuck him before I kill him," the clone continued blithely. "A leaving gift, you might say. What do you think?"

No, no, no...

He opened his eyes. He felt a sudden calm.

How he did it, he couldn't guess. But his body flowed up, heedless of the pain and the suffocated tissues of his abused flesh. Blinding speed and he whirled, kicking Belial full-on in the face, grinning savagely at the clone's enraged cry of pain. The clone jumped up, advanced on Obi- Wan, who had seized and was brandishing the same hooked instrument that Belial had subtly threatened him with hours before.

"Let me out, or I'll kill you, Sith."

Belial shook his head, irritated.

"You're a fool, Kenobi."

Belial lifted his hand, and Obi-Wan turned too late to prevent a heavy piece of equipment from smashing into his back. He crumpled to the ground with a low cry, felt the weapon wrenched from his grasp.

Belial dragged him back to the chair, flung him facedown, his chest pressed to the seat. He pulled Obi-Wan's arms forward, lashing his wrists to the base of the chair with remnants of carbon rope. He dug his fingers into Obi-Wan's scalp, yanked his head back.

"I would have been tender with you, Kenobi," he hissed. "We might have shared pleasure, you and I. I would have bestowed pleasure before I inflicted pain upon you. But perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps pain will cleanse you, make you more willing to receive pleasure later."

Obi-Wan fought desperately, his fear giving him unexpected strength. No mistake about what the clone planned to do now, and he yanked at the ropes and kicked and flailed, and once almost managed to dislodge himself from his vulnerable position.

But Belial was stronger, and Obi-Wan's legs were forced apart, the clone kneeling between them. One hand closed on his tail; he heard the sound of rustling cloth, and he tried to squirm away, crying out incoherent words.

"Let me go, let me go, you can't, no, help me, help me, Master, you can't, please--"

That hateful laugh again. "Well, if you'd rather pretend it's your master, Obi-Wan, I suppose that's all right with me..."

Obi-Wan sobbed.

"First lesson, Kenobi...do what you will."

He spread Obi-Wan widely apart, then pushed into the tight opening, past the ring of muscle, tearing delicate tissue and tender skin.

Obi-Wan moaned, a lost, agonized cry that made the clone smile again even as he grunted in his own pain, flesh against unprepared flesh.

Oh Master it hurts it hurts it hurts me...

Pain.

And his soul, a tiny light in a maelstrom of Darkness.

 

________________________________________

 

Belial pushed him to the floor, his wrists still bound to the base of the chair.

"Sleep, Kenobi. We'll begin again later."

Obi-Wan did not look up as the clone left the room.

End 8

 

 

C h a p t e r 9

________________________________________

 

He looks exhausted, Qui-Gon thought.

Obi-Wan was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, studying a datapad. His hair was wet, and his skin was glowingly clean. But his eyes were red, and there were violet smudges underneath them. He was ferociously intent on his reading, and didn't hear Qui-Gon come in.

"Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon softly.

Obi-Wan's head jerked up, and for a split second, Qui-Gon was taken aback. Obi-Wan's eyes were narrowed, flat, and wary. Then the illusion vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, and Obi-Wan beamed, sprang up, and crossed the room. He threw his arms around Qui-Gon and embraced him tightly.

Qui-Gon, slightly surprised but not at all displeased at this demonstrative show of affection from his normally reserved padawan, returned the embrace warmly, seeking out the young man's lips with his own. They kissed, and Obi-Wan drew back almost shyly. He rested his head on Qui-Gon's broad shoulder.

"I missed you, Master," he said. "Where were you?"

"I met with Eeth Koth," Qui-Gon replied, his arms still wrapped about the young man, not willing to break the embrace. "We had unfinished business." He pressed his lips to the top of Obi-Wan's head, inhaling the scent of wet, freshly washed hair.

Would that I could always hold you so, Padawan, he thought.

"And where have you been, my apprentice, my early riser?" he teased. "I awoke and you had already gone. Most uncharacteristic of you, I thought."

Obi-Wan gazed up at him adoringly--Vanity, Qui-Gon told himself--a faint smile playing across his features, his eyes like night stars, and Qui- Gon felt an almost overwhelming surge of love. He wanted to kiss him and never stop...

"I went to Training Hall, and then I sat in on Master Billaba's philosophy class."

"Which explains why you look so drained, Padawan. The Chalactan school of thought is meandering and circuitous, is it not? I'm sure Master Billaba engaged you in debate."

"She did, Master," Obi-Wan admitted, "And beat me soundly, I'm ashamed to say."

Qui-Gon laughed and ruffled Obi-Wan's hair. "Nothing to be ashamed of, Padawan. Depa Billaba is the most agile debater that I have ever encountered, and she's made me feel like an idiot on more than one occasion. It's maddening."

"Yes, Master." A quick dip of the head, and an impish grin.

"Have you eaten, Obi-Wan?" asked Qui-Gon, finally--reluctantly--relinquishing his hold on the young man and leading him into the kitchen.

"No, Master."

"Nor have I, and I'm famished," Qui-Gon said, opening the cooler and rummaging through its contents.

"I can't believe this. Nothing," he announced.

"The cooler's full of food, Master."

"Yes, but there's nothing that I want," he said, with a sideways glance at Obi-Wan. It was a not very subtle hint, and he should be ashamed of himself. He'd taken advantage of his apprentice's impromptu culinary skills countless times. Idly he wondered where Obi-Wan had learned to cook. Certainly not from me, he thought.

"Master...there's quite a lot to eat. I'll heat up some stew."

"Fine. Thank you, Padawan."

Damn.

They ate companionably, with a minimum of conversation. Qui-Gon rose to tidy up, and Obi-Wan made sweet tea and carried it into the common room, where they sat, sipped. and made desultory conversation. Qui-Gon was intently aware of his apprentice's eyes on him, and wondered if there was a graceful way to let Obi-Wan know that he had an enormous erection, and could they possibly make love now, immediately?

Probably not.

"How was your meeting, Master?"

"Ah, very productive, Obi-Wan, and thank you for reminding me. I don't know where my mind is," he said, stretching his legs and sighing, trying to ignore his penis, which seemed to have achieved a life of its own. There's your mind, he remonstrated himself. Calm down. "We have a mission in a little less than a fortnight."

Obi-Wan looked at him in what Qui-Gon could have sworn was dismay.

"A...mission, Master?"

"Yes, Padawan. We are to go to Yrrna. There are rumors of terrorist activity there, and we are to--what's wrong, Obi-Wan?" Obi-Wan's face had become very pale and his eyes looked panicked. Qui-Gon frowned.

"Yrrna...but that's...that's an Outer Rim system...so far away."

"So it is, Obi-Wan. Why do you object? You're usually pleased when we leave Ccoruscant." Qui-Gon peered closely at his apprentice. Obi-Wan looked terrible. Qui-Gon would have to find out which of the healers had treated him. Clearly he was unwell.

Obi-Wan looked down, swallowed. "Forgive me, Master. I have no right to question you."

"Of course you do, Obi-Wan. I value your opinion. You know that." He covered Obi-Wan's hand with his own. "If you have a concern, you must tell me. We can no longer conceal things from each other."

"Yes, Master. It's just that..." he trailed off.

Qui-Gon waited.

"I...I just want you to...it's just that I want you all to myself. No distractions," Obi-Wan said, not meeting his eyes.

Qui-Gon could not refrain from smiling."Obi-Wan...you have me. No need to worry...or to let a mission get in the way." He reached out and brushed a hand gently over Obi-Wan's face, which was sleek enough to indicate that he'd just shaved, but there was a hint of masculine roughness as well...it was a distractingly erotic combination.

"Besides, " he continued, "A mission can provide many creative environs for lovemaking, Obi-Wan. Starship bunks, cargo holds, tents, single beds, 'freshers...the possibilities are limitless."

Obi-Wan laughed, his eyes twinkling. "Yes, Master." All at once the smile died.

"There's more, Padawan. Out with it."

"Master...what about the Council?"

"The Council?"

"Yes. The Council. And the Code. Because we..." he waved a hand. "You know."

He did. And he'd anticipated the question. He chose his words carefully. "With your permission, Obi-Wan, I intend to approach the Council regarding our relationship. You're not a child any longer, Padawan--indeed, you're well past the age of consent--but there will be an uproar of some kind. I'm certain of it. You may be called before the Council, so that they may ascertain that you haven't been forced, or coerced. It may be unpleasant for you, and I have no wish to see you suffer in any way."

"I see," murmured Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon felt another surge of love, nearly pain. Obi-Wan looked so young at that moment, and Qui-Gon knew that this must have been bothering him.

"As I said, Obi-Wan, I won't approach the Council without your permission. Give it time, my love, think about it. Until then we will be circumspect."

In all truth, Qui-Gon would have gone to the Council immediately. But he wanted to give Obi-Wan time and space to absorb their situation. He was so young, and doubtless still hungered for new experiences. Qui-Gon had no desire to hinder him...if Obi-Wan had doubts, let him resolve them before they met up with the inevitable obstacles that the Council would present.

Qui-Gon himself had no such doubts.

He lifted Obi-Wan's hand, pressed it to his lips.

Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon through his lashes.

"Come, my love." Qui-Gon drew Obi-Wan up, led him into the bedroom.

Obi-Wan stopped at the doorway.

"Damn."

"What is it?"

"Oh...nothing, master. Something I forgot to do earlier."

"Can it wait, Padawan?" Jestingly.

That smile again, achingly sweet.

"Of course, Master."

 

________________________________________

 

"Master..."

"Yes..."

"Make it hard. Make it hurt me."

"Obi-Wan..."

"Yes. Make it hurt." He slithered off the bed to the floor, crawled to the discarded clothing. He pulled a tunic sash from the pile, held it up before Qui-Gon, eyes blazing.

"Tie me up."

"Oh, Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon trailed off uncertainly.

"Do it. Bind me, use me, please yourself, Master."

Hesitantly Qui-Gon took the sash from Obi-Wan's hands.

"Are you certain, my love? I don't--"

"Yes!" Nearly a hiss. "Make me feel what--" he stopped.

"What?"

"Do it, Master, please."

Obi-Wan. On his knees. His for the taking. Offering himself...

Qui-Gon brushed a finger over his mouth. "How would...how would you like me to..."

A long moment of silence before Obi-Wan spoke.

"As my Master wishes."

It was too much. Qui-Gon stood, and walked around Obi-Wan, dropped to his knees behind him. He crossed Obi-Wan's wrists behind him and bound them with the length of sash, careful not to cut off the young man's circulation. He stood and watched Obi-Wan, gazing at him, his own erection painful now in its intensity. Yet he delayed; he delayed his own urges to behold the vision in front of him,incredibly beautiful, not one he would have chosen, nearly alien in its appeal...his padawan, bound, on his knees, submissive, his penis jutting out, gods, yes...

He took in the details that were the sum of Obi-Wan's beauty, aware that he'd done it a thousand times before. But then it was...furtive, guilty, and he'd been ashamed of himself, at his lack of control. Now he was free to look as he might, to please himself.

Obi-Wan's head tipped down, and Qui-Gon bent low and planted a kiss at the vulnerable looking base of his neck. He knelt again behind Obi-Wan and kissed his shoulders, the tip of his tongue dancing over the freckles there, a pattern he'd long since memorized. Down his back, over the delicate protrusion of spine and shoulder blades, enhanced by muscle and sinew. Power sheathed in beauty.

He kissed Obi-Wan's arms down to his bound wrists. Obi-Wan's fingers flexed and Qui-Gon kissed them, taking two, then three in his mouth, biting gently. Obi-Wan groaned. "Master..."

"Yes, my Obi-Wan?"

"Not enough...make it hurt me...I want you to."

"I thought you would have me please myself, love."

"You want to. I know it...ahh..." and he trembled as Qui-Gon's hand insinuated itself between his thighs, manipulating his balls, now curling around his cock and exerting only the smallest bit of pressure.

"Master...take me..."

Take me.

Use me.

Hurt me.

Again too much, and all the instincts he'd never known he possessed rose up, claimed him, and he rose upwards, dragging Obi-Wan to the bed, pleased at the gasp of pain or pleasure that escaped his apprentice, his student, his to command. He flung Obi-Wan face down, reveled in the sight, the position in which he'd landed, his head turned to the side, his legs spread, knees ever so slightly bent, his bound hands curled into fists as if in fear, pulling at the restraints. Obi-Wan ground his hips into the bed and let out a strangled cry.

"Master, no, please, no...let me go..."

Qui-Gon hesitated. A ripple of Force, a whisper, another voice...no.

His own dark urges, and he would obey, because he could not stop himself, no, not even if he wanted to. He swiped hastily at the pot of oil, rubbed it over his cock, and plunged in, savagely delighting in the primal howl that arose from the writhing body beneath him, not caring whether the cry was one of agony or ecstasy, and he pounded, the sound of Obi-Wan's moans, their bodies slamming against each other, and his own guttural cries resounding in his ears, intoxicating, and finally they came, one after another, their voices blending, dissonant music, crashing again and again.

 

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon drifted in and out of sleep.

"Obi-Wan." A murmur.

"Yes, Master?"

"We must begin to work on our bond. It has suffered....before things get..."

He yawned hugely.

"Get what, Master?"

"Complicated." Another yawn.

"Oh. Of course. Don't worry, Master." Arms stole around him.

"Anyway..." he mumbled sleepily, "think of the sex. Bond-enhanced sex, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan laughed, and Qui-Gon smiled as he spiraled slowly into sleep.

He slept deeply, not feeling the man beside him rise noiselessly from the bed and leave the room.

 

________________________________________

 

As Mace Windu left his quarters for Council, he nearly stepped on a small parcel outside his door. Frowning, he picked it up and looked at it. It was wrapped in silk and tied with a ribbon.

He unwrapped it slowly.

A holodisc.

He went back into his quarters and slid the disc into his comm unit.

His smooth dark countenance betrayed no emotion as he watched the contents of the disc for several very long minutes.

He left once again, pocketing the disc and making his way to the Council chamber. The other members of the council were already seated.

"You're late, Master Windu." Ki-Adi-Mundi's voice was slightly irritable.

"We have need to discuss a serious matter, Masters."

"We have an agenda, Master Windu. Can it not wait?"

"It cannot wait." His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking its gravity.

"Very well. What does this concern?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn...and his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

End 9

 

C h a p t e r 10

________________________________________

 

Obi-Wan didn't sleep, not at first.

He lay curled around the base of the chair to which his wrists were still bound in a hazy twilight of pain and soul-weariness. Hours he spent like that, not thinking, his mind unfocused. Somewhere within him there was shame and rage; there was humiliation and defeat; but some part of him quelled the roiling emotions, letting his mind drift. Perhaps it was just as well; he'd been brutally abused, and perhaps it was too soon, just now, for a thorough examination of the self.

And finally, mercifully, he fell asleep, and dreamed again.

He dreamt of Qui-Gon, tall and noble and beautiful, who took Obi-Wan into his arms and murmured endearments and whispered soothingly to him, and Obi-Wan trembled and clung to him like a child.

"Master...I'm so afraid."

"Fear not, my Obi-Wan, my dear one. Have faith. All will be well."

Large hands caressing him, so gently, so softly, and Obi-Wan allowed himself to be comforted. He burrowed into Qui-Gon's embrace, loving the feel of the other man's arms around him, hungering for the affection that had been so long denied...but there was more, and Obi-Wan remembered now, and pulled away, though it hurt him.

"We are in danger, Master. All of us."

"Where is the danger, my padawan?"

And he wanted to tell him, so badly, but he couldn't speak, and he was wrenched from Qui-Gon's arms by unseen hands, and Qui-Gon disappeared. Obi-Wan was standing in a vast chamber. Belial stood beside him.

"Look, Obi-Wan," the clone said, pointing.

Obi-Wan saw rows upon rows of transparisteel vats, each holding a body. And he knew that each body was a clone, and each clone the replica of a Jedi Knight.

Horrified, he stood frozen to the spot until Belial pulled him through the rows of vats. They stopped in front of one, and the clone pushed him up against the vat, and he looked up...

....up into the face of his own master.

"Qui-Gon..."

"Qui-Gon will die," whispered Belial, his arms snaking around Obi-Wan and tightening. "This will take his place...such is the fate of all the Jedi."

"No," said Obi-Wan, or tried to, but a hand was on his mouth, another twined through his hair, and he was pushed to the floor, and he tried to scream as a multitude of hands held him still, held him open to the clone's assault, and the clone battered into him again, and this time he did cry out, and he snapped awake with a start.

Still in his prison. But no clone standing over him, for which he was dimly grateful.

He looked up at the sound of a bolt being shot.

The Zabrakian had entered the room. He strode over to the chair, squatted, and cut Obi-Wan's wrists free. Then he straightened and gestured at the young man.

"Stand up."

Obi-Wan stood, a bit unsteadily. The Zabrakian, with considerably more gentleness than Belial had shown, ushered him through a short series of rooms into a 'fresher. Silently he pushed Obi-Wan inside, shut the door, and locked it.

Obi-Wan looked around for a moment. The room was windowless, with only one exit. And no doubt the guard still stood on the other side of the door with a blaster.

He pushed away the despair that threatened and stumbled to the taps. He turned on the cold water and drank thirstily, greedily, feeling the water irrigating him, trickling through him like sunlight. He sank to the floor, feeling almost good for the first time in days. He sighed and brushed a hand against his face, feeling the faint growth of beard there. His fingertips touched cloth against his collarbone, and he reached up to unknot the gag that still hung loosely around his neck. He tossed it away, not looking at it.

His stomach clenched suddenly from the shock of the cold water, and he scurried to the sanitary unit and vomited. He hadn't eaten for so long, and he had nothing in his stomach except the water. Shuddering, he crawled to the shower, turned it on, and sat on the floor, letting the hot stinging water spray over him. There was soap, and a soft cloth, and he rubbed the soapy cloth against his skin, wincing as the cloth touched the cuts and welts on his body, the results of his fruitless struggles against his restraints. It was hardly that they hurt...he'd endured far worse pain. But they were a tangible symbol of his helplessness, a reminder that he was no closer to escape now, or then. He blushed, ashamed, aware that he should have spent every waking moment focused upon escape, as it was certain that rescue was out of the question.

The shame burned within him, turned to anger, which gave him some strength, and he stood, finished washing hastily. He shut off the shower, dried himself, and wrapped the towel around his hips.

He walked to the door of the 'fresher, determined to plot an escape, somehow...he stretched out a hand, forgetting that the door was locked.

It swung open. Belial stood there.

He was dressed in the same close-fitting black leather garments that Obi-Wan had first seen him in. His eyes were laced with snaps of red, and he looked fatigued. Nevertheless, he smiled at Obi-Wan, and the smile was sweet, there was genuine affection in it, and for a moment Obi-Wan saw himself reflected in the clone's smile, and he was terribly afraid.

"All fresh and clean, I see."

His eyes flicked down to the towel around Obi-Wan's waist.

"Modesty becomes you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan stepped back warily. He glared at the clone, feeling all the rage that his subconscious had suppressed earlier. His hands clenched into fists, and he tensed, prepared to spring.

Belial sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"I haven't slept in days, Obi-Wan, and time draws short. You can cooperate with me, or I can stun you into submission. Make your choice." He shifted, and Obi-Wan saw the dull gleam of a blaster strapped to his thigh. Belial's hand went to the blaster.

Obi-Wan met the clone's reddened eyes. Exhausted or not, he was sure that Belial's reflexes would be faster than his own, for Obi-Wan was weakened from lack of food and his confinement. He couldn't trust his own body to overcome the clone, and even if he could, there was still the guard and then he'd have to find his way out of this prison, wherever it was...no. There had to be another way.

How? he thought despondently. You're alone in the grip of an agent of Darkness, outnumbered, strengthless, helpless...hopeless?

No. No. I am Jedi. I may not have the Force as my disposal, but I am still Jedi. I will survive this. I must survive. I must.

He nodded briefly and allowed Belial to take him by the arm. He was silent and unflinching when Belial snatched the towel from his hips, leaving him naked. Belial dropped the towel and caressed Obi-Wan's ass.

"Delectable."

Obi-Wan remained silent.

The worst had been done, after all.

Belial led him back to the interrogation chamber. He pulled a complicated array of leather straps and metal buckles from a shelf.

"Kneel."

Obi-Wan knelt, his face burning.

"Hands behind your back."

He hesitated, then obeyed. His heart ached unbearably. No way out of this, no way out, his mind chanted, and he lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut against defeated tears. Belial's eyes darkened, and he knelt behind his captive and confined his wrists within the leather straps securely. More straps were buckled around Obi-Wan's arms, above his elbows, and around his ankles. The ankle restraints were fastened together with a short length of chain. Belial clipped another length of chain to Obi-Wan's wrist cuffs and attached it to his ankles. Now Obi-Wan was hobbled, on his knees. It was impossible for him to stand.

Belial put a finger under Obi-Wan's chin and tilted his head up.

"How quickly you've adapted to your captivity, Obi-Wan. I wonder if all Jedi learn to be prisoners as quickly as you have...or is that a particular talent of yours?"

Obi-Wan yanked his head away and involuntarily pulled at his bonds, regretting the action as soon as it had occurred. He'd learned all too soon that it pleased the clone to see him fight; yet he could not prevent himself from doing so.

"You're flushed, Jedi, and your breathing has become erratic. I think that you're enjoying this as much as I am."

"Go to hell."

Belial regarded him calmly for a moment. He turned, switched on the monitor, and slipped a holodisc in. An image formed on the screen.

Qui-Gon...Qui-Gon, throwing the clone, his hands bound behind him, onto the bed. The clone writhing in apparent fear, protesting, fighting, crying out as Qui-Gon entered him.

Obi-Wan was pale with anger.

"What is this?" he managed.

"Don't be dense, Obi-Wan. It's a holodisc."

"This is a trick..."

"Oh. Yes. It's only a small part of what actually took place. Believe me, I was entirely willing. I'm sorry that I neglected to turn on the monitor before I left. You must have been terribly bored."

"What have you done?" whispered Obi-Wan, fearing the answer.

"I've made a mistake, Obi-Wan. I was foolish enough to think that I had the luxury of time on Coruscant. Qui-Gon and I have been assigned to a mission on Yrrna, to ferret out terrorist activity."

"I don't understand," Obi-Wan said.

"I can't very well take you to Yrrna. Qui-Gon would question my absences, and obviously, I can't tell him the reason for my frequent disappearances. Here on Coruscant, they're easy enough to explain away. And as you may recall, I already have plans to go offworld with you...to Sullust."

"Where your Master waits for me," Obi-Wan said, stunned at his own effrontery. Idiot, he thought, don't provoke him. The clone was unpredictable at best, and Obi-Wan had had enough evidence of his cruelty when it was aroused.

But Belial didn't rise to the taunt. "Precisely. And there is another reason, Obi-Wan...can you guess?"

Obi-Wan thought. What else could there be...

He knew.

"The terrorism on Yrrna...it's..."

Belial clapped his hands once, delighted. "Yes! Excellent guess. Yrrna is one of the worlds on which my Master's forces are mobilizing. If Qui- Gon went to Yrrna, he'd almost certainly discover this. I don't think that even I could distract him sufficiently to prevent his investigation."

"But why...why would you-"

"That?" said Belial, throwing a nod toward the monitor. "I needed to create confusion, Obi-Wan. Too many things are happening now, and I confess that I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all. I need time."

"Someone else will go to Yrrna, even if it's not Qui-Gon."

"True...but I've already notified my Master. Even now, steps are being taken to dissolve the preparations there. By the time the Jedi arrive, all the rumors will prove false. And there will almost certainly be delays...considering the scandal within the Jedi Order."

Obi-Wan's heart sunk. "What do you mean?" His suspicions were confirmed with Belial's answer.

"A copy of this holodisc is now in the hands of the Council. How will they react, do you think, when it's discovered that a Jedi Master, respected by his fellow Knights, a skilled diplomat and a powerful warrior, has brutally raped his innocent Padawan, whose pleas for mercy went unheeded? The Council will be outraged, horrified. Qui-Gon will be expelled from the Order. And then I shall reappear, exact vengeance, and send his unquiet soul into eternity."

Obi-Wan choked back a sob of rage.

"Why?" he gasped. "Why would you do this? What has he done to you, that you would make him suffer so?"

"Don't you understand by now, Obi-Wan? It's all for you, all of this."

Obi-Wan shook his head frantically.

"Yes, Obi-Wan." Belial knelt in front of him.

"Because you will be mine, Obi-Wan. My apprentice. You will witness the destruction of all that you hold dear. Your suffering will be boundless, and Qui-Gon will be purged from your soul, a cleansing by fire. You will be an empty vessel, and only I will remain, to form you, to rebuild your soul." He gathered Obi-Wan to him, holding him upright, and Obi-Wan struggled in his arms. He held him still.

"You are mine, Obi-Wan, My captive, my slave, my own dearest love."

"Love!" cried Obi-Wan, utterly sickened. "What do you know of love, you atrocity!"

"You think I'm not capable of love, Obi-Wan?" Belial whispered, pulling him closer, so that their mouths were mere centimeters away. "For days I watched you, weaving myself into the tapestry of your consciousness. I felt your longing for Qui-Gon, and your terror of rejection. When Qui-Gon made love to me, I absorbed his feelings for you, and how beautiful they are, Obi- Wan, like a thousand shimmering stars, rapturous...I almost regret not being able to open a bond with him. He has an enormous capacity for passion, as you saw. But in the end, only you matter. In time you'll understand...we share so much more than flesh and blood." He leaned forward and kissed Obi- Wan on the mouth.

"I love you, Obi-Wan," the clone murmured, kissing Obi-Wan's ears, his neck, his shoulders, holding him as he strained against him, leather touching bare skin.

"I'll give you everything you've ever wanted...power...wealth...lovers...you have only to ask, and it shall be yours." His head dipped down, and he suckled Obi-Wan's nipples, pulling at them, one by one, with a mouth that was beyond skillful, it was agonizing, and exquisite, and Obi-Wan hated every second of it.

"Give me my freedom," Obi-Wan said, stifling a groan, trying to back away, but those arms held him immovably.

"You know I can't do that."

"Then spare Qui-Gon," he gasped, as the clone's mouth closed over his cock. "He doesn't deserve to suffer for my sake, he...ahh...let him..."

Belial rose again to face Obi-Wan. His hand closed over Obi-Wan's cock and began to stroke it rhythmically. He spoke to him gently.

"You still don't understand, Obi-Wan. His death is necessary to my plans..." His voice trailed off as he began to kiss Obi-Wan again. His tongue slipped into Obi-Wan's mouth, and Obi-Wan caught a faint, slightly bitter taste...semen.

Qui-Gon's semen.

He was thoroughly undone, and he sobbed aloud, his cries muffled, as Belial contined to plunder his mouth. The clone made a crooning noise in his throat as if to calm the young Jedi, and he caressed Obi-Wan's back almost gently. His other hand remained on Obi-Wan's penis, bringing it to an erection despite the young man's intense suffering.

The shame and hate welled within Obi-Wan and now, more than his freedom, he desired to kill, to wipe the abomination from existence. And so he did the only thing that he could.

Belial shrieked as Obi-Wan bit him as hard as he could. Obi-Wan let go, and the clone sprang to his feet, clutching his bleeding mouth and cursing. His booted foot lashed out and caught Obi-Wan in the ribs, and Obi-Wan fell to his side, gasping in pain. One of his rbs was broken, he was certain of it, but it was worth it, seeing Belial's agony.

Still cursing, Belial stalked out of the room and returned several minutes later. He glared balefully at Obi-Wan. "You nearly severed my tongue, Jedi," he snarled, unerringly kicking Obi-Wan's injured rib again. "You're going to pay for that." His speech was blurred, and Obi-Wan could see a bacta patch bandaged around the clone's tongue.

"I should have bitten it off."

The clone kicked him again in response, and Obi-Wan writhed in silent pain on the floor.

Belial walked over to a shelf and pulled an object down, and strode back to where Obi-Wan lay on his side. He knelt beside Obi-Wan and stuck the object in his face.

It was a slim wand about the length of a man's forearm, with a handle at one end from which several controls protruded. He hit a button and the tip of the wand began to glow red.

"Ever seen one of these before, Jedi?"

Obi-Wan was silent. It wasn't familiar to him, but he could certainly guess...

"It's a neural whip. Or, as the Mandalore call it, the Truthfinder. It works by inductive stimulation of the nerve endings. With this, I can make you feel fiery heat, stinging cold, a hot needle in your flesh...and many, many other sensations, in any combination I please. I can even make you feel intense pleasure, although I'm not particularly inclined to do so now.

"The point is that, however intense the pain I make you feel, it will do no actual damage to your lovely body, and it will leave no marks upon your skin. You can't die from this.

"But I can make you want to. Allow me to demonstrate."

He touched the end of the whip to Obi-Wan's chest.

Burning stinging whitehot electric shock, like a million live wires jammed into his skin, but he wouldn't scream, he wouldn't, and he bit his lip until the blood ran freely, mingling with the clone's blood.

Belial looked disappointed, and withdrew the whip.

"Well, that was the lowest setting, after all."

He hit another button, touched Obi-Wan again.

"Still nothing. Hmm."

Another adjustment, another touch.

Belial sighed.

"Not yet? We'll increase the duration, and the intensity."

Another touch.

Agony...

"Better. But that was just a whimper, Obi-Wan! I know you can scream much louder than that..."

Another touch.

"Improving. Let's make another adjustment. And let's see...why don't you pretend that Qui-Gon is in the next room, and if you scream loudly enough, he'll hear you, and rush to your rescue!" The clone laughed, and touched Obi-Wan again, much longer this time.

"Oh, that was very good, Obi-Wan. Very good."

The wand descended again.

"Where is the place I need to touch, Obi-Wan, to unlock your secrets and lay you entirely bare? Is it here?"

Again...

"Or here?"

"What about here?"

"Between here?"

"Oh, that was many times worse than before, wasn't it? And we're only halfway up its scale. Let's try...here."

Pure, unceasing torment, and Obi-Wan convulsed and screamed, full- throated anguish.

Belial reached out and gently touched Obi-Wan's face, stealing a droplet from the corner of one tightly closed eye. He brought the finger to his lips and tasted it.

"You know, that last must have hurt you very badly, Obi-Wan, but I'm afraid it doesn't quite make up for my tongue, which, by the way, still hurts. So we'll--" he stopped at a chirruping noise that Obi-Wan recognized, even in a mist of agony, as his comlink. Belial set the whip down and pulled the comlink out. He stood and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Obi-Wan lay on the floor, breathing shallowly, trying to control the trembling that seized his body. He felt no further pain, but the memory was nealy as intense as the pain itself, and try as he might, he could not shut the memory out. It had been excruciating, and there was more suffering to come, he was sure of it.

Belial returned, grinning. He knelt once again by Obi-Wan and stroked his flank.

"The game resumes, Obi-Wan. The Council summons me."

Obi-Wan's heart twisted at this news.

"Please...don't..."

"Yes. I will. And this time, you will watch."

End 10

 

 

C h a p t e r 11

________________________________________

 

He was dreaming of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan...trembling and frightened in his arms, and for all of Qui- Gon's soothing words and tender caresses he would not be calmed...and then he was gone.

Qui-Gon was alone.

He awoke. Obi-Wan was gone from his bed, and Qui-Gon stifled a pang of disappointment. He would have loved the young man by his side every moment, sleeping and waking; now that their feelings for each other were clear, he wanted to drink Obi-Wan in, to watch him as he moved through the world with that grace that set him apart from the other apprentices...you're mooning, old man, he thought, and chuckled to himself. It must be love.

Rising, he went to the 'fresher, showered, and emerged feeling wonderful. He hummed tunelessly as he dressed and prepared to go to the archives. He knew little of Yrrna, and needed to do at least a full day's research.

His comm unit buzzed and he answered it. The solemn face of Mace Windu appeared before him.

"Mace."

"Qui-Gon." There was no pleasure in the man's voice. "Come to the Council Chamber at once." The image faded out.

Qui-Gon stared at the blank screen in bemusement. Was there a change of plan? Was his mission altered? He shrugged, pulled his boots on, and left for the Council Chamber.

An officious droid admitted him to the large circular room. He bowed and strode to the center of the chamber, facing Mace and Yoda. He frowned slightly; he'd caught flickerings of Force from some of the Councillors. None of them were particularly benevolent. He took in the faces of those in his line of vision. All were grave; some appeared visibly upset. Clearly something was wrong...

Mace addressed him.

"Do you know why you have been summoned before us, Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "No."

"The Council has learned some distressing news, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon waited silently. Mace could be oblique at times.

"This concerns your apprentice."

Qui-Gon felt a faint stirring of uneasiness. Yoda gave him a hard gaze.

"You know, Qui-Gon."

Oh, indeed he did. How in all the hells had the Council found out so soon? He centered himself and spoke calmly. "Revered Masters," he began formally, "Padawan Kenobi and I have embarked on a relationship. I realize-"

"Relationship!" snorted Even Piell. "Is that what you call it?"

"Yes. We-"

"Spare us the explanation, Master Jinn. This is intolerable. We know. We have seen."

"I don't understand," said Qui-Gon sharply. "What have you seen?"

"Stand aside," ordered Mace. Qui-Gon stepped to one side, and a hologram, life-sized, came to life. Qui-Gon, shoving a bound Obi-Wan onto his bed. Obi-Wan struggling, crying out...

Qui-Gon blanched. His vision dimmed.

The hologram continued to play, the cries and moans a grotesque counterpoint to the silent Jedi and the thunder in Qui-Gon's ears.

"Turn it off!" someone implored. The hologram disappeared.

Qui-Gon took several deep, calming breaths as the Council stared at him. He folded his arms within the sleeves of his robe.

"How was this obtained?"

"How is hardly the point, I think, Master Jinn," said Adi Gallia. He turned and gazed at her. Her voice was mild, but her eyes snapped with barely concealed emotion.

"I find it reprehensible that someone would seek to defame my character and that of my padawan with such a hideous intrusion into our privacy. True, we have not been sanctioned by the Council, but-"

"Privacy?"

Qui-Gon was becoming increasingly irritated at the constant interruptions, but he remained outwardly calm and resolute. "Yes," he said firmly. "Privacy."

"You'd prefer that no one knew that you raped Padawan Kenobi."

Raped him? thought Qui-Gon, confused. What...oh. Oh, you damned fool. What does it look like? Qui-Gon drew himself up, nearly relieved. This would be unpleasant, but it was necessary. He would have liked to have given Obi-Wan some notice, though, so the young man wouldn't be unprepared.

Mace, watching Qui-Gon's face, shook his head. "Enough, Qui-Gon," he said. "Perhaps Padawan Kenobi can enlighten us."

So you summoned him too, thought Qui-Gon, as a side door opened.

Obi-Wan stepped into the Council Chamber, his hands folded inside his robe, an unconscious imitation of his master. Qui-Gon smiled at him warmly. Obi-Wan took his place by Qui-Gon's side, his face pale but composed.

/Courage, my love./

Obi-Wan did not acknowledge the sending.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," said Ki-Adi-Mundi, "Today the Council has seen some evidence of abuse...your master, Qui-Gon Jinn, stands accused of rape."

Obi-Wan clapped both hands to his mouth. His eyes were huge.

Qui-Gon glared at Ki-Adi-Mundi. Gently done, Master, he thought angrily.

Yarael Poof spoke gently, his long neck swaying. "Don't be afraid to speak, Padawan. You are not on trial."

Obi-Wan let out a deep, shuddering breath.

"I...I didn't want to..." Tears filled his eyes, and he covered his face with his hands. "I didn't want to..."

Qui-Gon wheeled and stared at Obi-Wan in absolute shock.

/Obi-Wan!/

The young man sank to his knees, and a muffled sob escaped from behind his hands.

Qui-Gon sent to him in desperation. /Obi-Wan!/

Nothing but a tightly erected mental shield, and Qui-Gon wanted to weep himself.

/Padawan! Please...tell them.../

Again nothing, and Qui-Gon felt the world slipping sideways. Was this an illusion? Why wouldn't Obi-Wan speak up?

/My love...you asked me...was it not what you wanted?/

No answer, and as he listened to the young man's muted weeping, he was assailed by a crushing wave of guilt. Your fault, this is all your fault, he berated himself. He wasn't ready...he straightened, aware of the Councillors' eyes on him as one, unified in condemnation.

Qui-Gon wanted to rush to the young man and soothe his fears. The dream, he thought. Was this a portent? Yet he did not move. After all, it appeared as though he himself was the cause of Obi-Wan's fear. Obi-Wan would only repudiate him, and perhaps he deserved to be rejected. He was selfish, forcing himself on Obi-Wan before re-establishing the training bond.

But I didn't force myself on him. He wanted it...it appeared as though he wanted it...oh, gods above, what have I done?

Master Billaba had risen and approached Obi-Wan. She sank to the floor beside him and stroked his back gently. She looked at Mace. "I will escort Padawan Kenobi to the healing dome," she said, and Mace inclined his head. She rose, guiding Obi-Wan up and drawing his hood over his head. She shot a cold glance at Qui-Gon as they passed. Obi-Wan's face was hidden from view.

They left, and Qui-Gon remained, alone. He considered imploring them to look inside him, to search his soul, to seek the truth, when a cold shock of realization hit him.

They might seek the truth inside him, but the only truth they would find would be his own. His point of view. They would see a man who did not stop to consider Obi-Wan's feelings, a Master who ignored his Padawan's pleas. Never mind that Obi-Wan had been accepting and seemingly eager; Qui-Gon had failed him again, and this time on a more basic and personal level than before. This was more than a training bond; this was Obi-Wan's innocence. Qui-Gon had taken his pleasure, and he had not seen, not chosen to see Obi-Wan's hurt beneath the desire to please. Last night's abject display of submission...an d Qui-Gon's face burned with shame. Obi-Wan had asked him, had begged him to stop, and Qui-Gon had ignored him, had basely satisfied his own desires.

He deserved the condemnation of the Council. He deserved their censure. He deserved any punishment that they would inflict upon him.

/My Padawan...my love...I am so sorry./

He did not...could not ask for forgiveness.

He bowed deeply.

"Revered Masters...I await your judgment."

Mace's eyes were hard, and it was as if he did not know Qui-Gon at all, as if he had never shared a friendship with him.

"Qui-Gon Jinn...you have struck a blow at the bond of trust between Master and Padawan. In doing so, you strike at the Code, indeed, at the Jedi Order itself. It is our judgment that you surrender your lightsaber and remove yourself from the Temple."

He paused, his eyes like ice.

"Qui-Gon Jinn...you are Jedi no more."

 

________________________________________

 

Depa Billaba stood beside Obi-Wan's bed, watching him carefully. He'd been settled into the infirmary with gratifying speed, and she felt a sharp wave of compassion as she looked at the poor boy, and an enormous anger toward Qui-Gon, who, despite his eccentricities, had always been an outstanding example to his fellow Jedi...until now, she thought, wondering about his failed Padawan, Xanatos. Had Qui-Gon raped him, too; had he caused the young man to turn to the Dark Side? Enough, she said to herself, and let her anger flow out of her. The damage was done; Qui-Gon's fate was sealed, and Force willing, Obi-Wan would not be too badly damaged...she fervently hoped not.

Obi-Wan lay in the narrow bed, huddled beneath blankets. Depa touched a cool hand to his forehead, and spoke softly.

"Master Khadri will see you shortly, Padawan," she said. "She will examine you."

"Must she?" His eyes were huge, with purple shadows beneath them, and a fresh wave of sympathy overtook her.

"I know it won't be pleasant, Obi-Wan," she said, smoothing his hair. "But it is for your benefit."

He sighed. "Yes, Master."

She frowned. "What happened to your tongue, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan looked away, and his reply was faint.

"Bitten."

She turned away so that Obi-Wan would not see the disgust and anger on her face. Damn you, Qui-Gon...he's just a boy. How could you?

"Master."

"Yes, Padawan?"

"I think you should leave now."

She looked down at him. He had the faintest of smiles on his face. He really had an enchanting smile, she thought.

"Perhaps I'd better go, Obi-Wan. Master Khadri will be here at any moment." She put a hand out, hesitated, and then turned and left.

The young man gazed after her, and his smile widened.

 

________________________________________

 

Obi-Wan had felt pain before.

It was an accepted part of a Jedi's training. Torn muscles, burns from training sabers, the occasional broken bone...once he'd taken a blaster shot in the leg on a mission to Dantooine; it had been excruciating, and had taken half a day in the bacta tanks to heal. Always the initiates had been taught to accept pain, to welcome it as a friend, a warning that the body was injured and in need of healing, so that one could focus on tending the hurt through the Force. All Jedi were instructed in the healing trance, and used it with varying degrees of skill. Obi-Wan did not have a healer's skill, but he was proficient enough in the Force to use the trance with some effectiveness.

And now, the Force was gone...torn from him.

Even so...there was no healing for this pain.

He watched the proceedings in the Council Chamber.

There was not a worse torture that Belial could have devised.

/Master...oh, my Master.../

No response, and nothing that he could do. He was utterly helpless, bound more by the damned collar around his neck than by the restraints that nevertheless bit cruelly into his already bruised and chafed skin.

Obi-Wan had never paused to consider that the Force would someday not be at his disposal. He'd dismissed tales of Force-inhibition as stories told by older initiates to frighten the children in the creche. He'd trusted, never questioned, not believing that in even the most preposterous legend there was often a seed of truth.

As he lay on the floor of his prison, that cold, alien presence stole in, swirled around him.

/There is no escape, Jedi.../

No...not again...

/Come to me./

/NO!/

/I feel your despair. You are lost. Your master is lost. Come to me./

He cast about for something, anything to help him, to save him from this...

/Come to me. You shall have your revenge on Darth Belial./

/Master! Help me!/

/I am your Master, Obi-Wan./

Oh, no, please, no...

He closed his eyes.

/Force help me/

He begged now, feeling the Darkness pull at his consciousness...

And worse, at his fragile soul.

End 1

 

C h a p t e r 12

________________________________________

 

Belial lay on the narrow infirmary bed, staring up at the ceiling and humming cheerfully.

Jedi, he thought contemptuously. You're pathetic, the lot of you. So ready to believe the worst. You deserve to lose Qui-Gon.

Shaking his head, he sat up and heaved himself out of bed, strolling to the storage cabinets and pulling out his clothing.

Idiots.

He dressed and pulled Obi-Wan's boots on.

They fit perfectly, he thought. I'll have to thank Obi-Wan for breaking them in for me.

He smothered a giggle, and walked toward the door.

He was pulled up short by a tall human woman, quite old. Master Khadri, he surmised, flicking an idle glance at her.

"Padawan Kenobi?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing out of bed?"

He smiled and casually waved a hand. "I must leave. Excuse me."

The old woman snorted. "I don't think so, young man. Back into bed."

He frowned, and waved his hand again. "I don't require an examination."

Her face went blank for a moment, and then she scowled at him. "What do you think you're doing, Padawan?"

She was strong, and Belial grew frustrated. "Get out of my way."

She gave him a skeptical look, but spoke quietly. "You're not well, child. You've had a traumatic experience. I can help you. Now--" and she sent out a plume of healing Force--"please. Back into bed."

He pushed past her, then stopped, halted by a thin wall of Force. The hag, he thought furiously, and turned around, glaring at her.

Her eyes widened, and her hands flew to her throat.

"How dare you?" he said, walking to her, standing eye to eye with her. Her face was paling, and her eyes bulged horribly. He caught the mental alarm and obliterated it before anyone was alerted.

She fell to the floor. Dispassionately he watched her convulse.

Her convulsions gradually lessened, became mere twitches.

Three, two, one...and they finally ceased.

Belial dragged her body over to the storage cabinets and propped it up against them.

He trotted out of the infirmary.

 

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway of Obi-Wan's room, looking around for the last time. He walked over to the young man's chest of drawers and scrutinized the collection of objects lined up neatly on its top. A small carving, a golden dragon of Abbadon. A k'hrah nest, tiny and perfect. Some holos...Obi-Wan and Bant. Obi-Wan and Reeft. Obi-Wan in mid-leap, his saber held aloft, executing the third kata.

One holo was set apart from the others.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan had been seventeen. The holo was from a mission, a wedding of sovereigns on Djais. They were both smiling broadly; Qui-Gon's arm was thrown about his apprentice's shoulders.

In front of the holo was the stone that Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan for his thirteenth birthday.

Qui-Gon turned abruptly and went to his own bedroom.

He stripped off his robe and knelt to meditate.

Peace would not come.

You are Jedi no more.

No more.

He rose and pulled some clothing out. He undressed, folding his Jedi tunics and leggings neatly, placing them at the foot of his sleep couch.

He dressed in dark clothing...his blue tunic, black boots and leggings. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and his mouth twisted bitterly.

Your whoring clothes, he thought. How very apt. If he'd had other clothes, he would have worn them. But he did not, and could no longer call himself Jedi, and so would not appear as one.

I leave as I came, he thought. Empty-handed.

His eyes strayed to his own chest of drawers. There was only one item on it...a replica of the holo of himself and Obi-Wan. He took it and stared at it. Pressed it to his face.

/Obi-Wan.../

Consumed by grief, his soul cried out now, and he allowed his remorse to overwhelm him. He was unworthy of Obi-Wan, he knew it; the young man's fineness was like a brilliant beacon in gloom. Obi-Wan had always trusted him, even when Qui-Gon was in doubt. And he had betrayed him time and again, and when the reality of his feelings struck him he disregarded the boy's reactions.

I should have been watching him, instead of lusting blindly.

No...it was love. Love. It had to be. Lust did not break the heart.

And he had been truthful with Obi-Wan. He had shown him the truth of what lay in his soul. Obi-Wan was his heart's desire.

He looked at the holo again.

The Council would not hear him.

Would Obi-Wan hear him?

He had to try again. He was no longer a Jedi.

If he was compelled to leave, let him leave as a man.

He tucked the holo into his black robe and ran to the healing dome.

 

________________________________________

 

Belial made his way to the entrance to the Council chamber.

A droid stood in front of it.

"Can you tell me if Master Windu is still inside?" he inquired politely.

"The Council Chamber is unoccupied," responded the droid somewhat prissily.

"Oh, how convenient," replied Belial, reaching out and deactivating the droid in one fluid motion.

He pulled at the door. Locked. But simple enough to overcome.

He concentrated, sending tendrils of energy into the lock, bypassing the intricate coded failsafe. There was a tiny click. He slipped inside the Chamber and cast a wide net of Force, shielding himself from detection. He relocked the door, smiling. The Jedi Temple was built to withstand attackers from without, not saboteurs from within. This would be ridiculously easy.

He stepped to the center of the room. There was a pattern on the floor, inlaid stone. He shrugged off Obi-Wan's brown robe and dropped to the floor, looking intently at the center of the design.

Good. Good.

He focused again. The centermost stone rose slowly. It was cylindrical, about half a meter long. He levitated the stone towards him, set it down carefully. He powered up the Jedi's saber, a short, narrow beam of light.. Slowly, patiently, he bored a hole into the stone. When it was about six centimeters deep, he withdrew a tiny object from a pocket.

A thermal detonator, no bigger than his thumbnail. Hideously expensive, but well woth it, the tiny baradium fusion device was virtually undetectable and had a blast range of thirty-five meters. It would disintegrate every last Council member, and there would not be the smallest particle of flesh or bone remaining. He would have preferred something more painful, but there could be no opportunity for escape.

He set the tiny trigger and adhered the device to the hollow he'd created in the stone.

With painstaking slownesss and care he replaced the stone. Baradium was unstable. A tiny jog, and he'd be the only one to be disintegrated.

Perfect. It was done. No dust, no chipping...nothing to indicate that anything unusual had transpired.

He stood up. It was time to leave.

 

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon prowled the halls of the healing dome.

No Obi-Wan, though he saw a few Jedi he knew, who greeted him with familiarity.

No one knows yet, he thought. Just as well.

No one had seen Obi-Wan or Master Billaba. Irritated, Qui-Gon continued his search, burst into the short-term infirmary, heedless of propriety.

Empty. Damnation.

His eye caught a flash of brown robe across the room. He looked closely.

He ran to the storage cabinet, dropped to his knees.

Master Khadri. She'd tended Qui-Gon as a child...her eyes were wide, staring. Her face looked terrified. He rose, lifted her gently, and deposited her on the bed. He shut her eyes, and turned to the comm unit, to notify another of the healers.

As he made his way to the comm, he felt a ripple in the Force.

"Obi-Wan?"

He turned, following the faint trace.

Only a disarrayed bed. And yet...he walked to it.

On the floor next to it lay a discarded sleep tunic and leggings.

He picked the tunic up. He caught the scent of the soap that Obi-Wan wore.

He concentrated.

Darkness...

No!

/Obi-Wan!/

His hand flew automatically to his belt, felt nothing. Of course. He'd laid the saber on the floor of the Council chamber before he'd left. He cursed.

He all but ran through the halls of the healing dome.

He stopped everyone he saw. No one had seen Padawan Kenobi. Those who had seen Master Khadri had not seen her in some time. No, she'd been fine. What was wrong?

"Master Khadri is dead," he said tersely, not bothering to answer any more questions. Fear gnawed at his insides. Had someone abducted Obi-Wan, and killed Master Khadri? How in all the hells had they escaped undetected?

/Obi-Wan! Answer me!/

His fear turned to rage. Force help you if he's harmed when I find you, he thought.

Depa. Depa was the last one who'd seen Obi-Wan.

He tore through the Jedi Temple, to the Council Chamber.

 

________________________________________

 

Belial closed the door and relocked it.

No one had seen him. Good. The fewer people he had to kill, the better. He already regretted not disposing of the old woman's body more efficiently; then again, he reflected, her disappearance would cause more comment than her death. Let the Jedi think that Obi-Wan had killed her and run off, mad, despairing...given his supposed current state of mind, anything would be possible.

He started down the corridor that led out of the Council's rooms.

And was almost mowed down by Qui-Gon.

"Padawan!" Qui-Gon's face was white, and his voice was harsh.

Damn it, Belial thought. He cast about for an appropriate reaction, all the while admiring the fit of Qui-Gon's clothes. You should dress like that all the time, Qui-Gon. Come to think of it, now you can...for a while, at least.

He stumbled back, feigning fear. "Stay away from me!"

Qui-Gon didn't move. "Obi-Wan!" he cried imploringly, holding his hands out. "Padawan-" He stopped, and Belial could read his thoughts.

Not anymore.

"I thought you'd been abducted, Obi-Wan. Master Khadri is dead, what are you doing here...what's happened?"

Belial watched him struggle for calm.

"Obi-Wan...what has happened?"

Belial fell to his knees again, sobbing. "Master--oh, Master!" He crumpled to the floor, weeping loudly. This is absurd, he thought. My knees are starting to bruise. But it was the fastest way to stave off questions. I don't suppose Kenobi's much of a weeper, thought Belial. Qui-Gon would be better equipped to deal with his tears.

He felt powerful arms lift him and carry him through the halls of the Temple.

 

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon, thoroughly distressed, held his weeping apprentice--former apprentice, he corrected himself grimly--closely to him as he took the most untraveled route possible back to their quarters. He smiled wryly at himself, despite his pain.

I don't want anyone to think that I'm absconding with you, my love. I'm in enough disgrace as it is. Though that was precisely what he wanted to do...he wanted to disappear with his precious burden. He held Obi-Wan, who clung to him now, loving the feel of his strong arms, of his body, the curve of thigh, hot under his hand, the muscular sweep of back...

Stop! he all but screamed at himself. Why do you think you've been expelled from the Order? Why do you think you're fleeing from curious eyes? He'll never be yours again. Look at him; he clings to you, his former Master, his teacher...his rapist. You will never make love to him again. You will never be his master again. The bond is dead. Pray that Obi-Wan will overcome the deficiency you inflicted upon him, that you haven't damaged him irreparably.

He arrived at their door, carried the young man inside, into his room, lay him upon his sleep couch.

Obi-Wan had fallen into a fitful semiconsciousness. He curled up on the couch, murmuring to himself. Tears wetted his cheeks.

Qui-Gon, stricken with grief and guilt, knelt beside Obi-Wan, stroking his hair and his back. His eyes filled. Dear Padawan...what I've done to you, he thought.

But perhaps now...

He decided. Now.

He lay his hands upon the youth.

/My love...my dearest...I meant you no harm. I only wished for us to love one another./

He concentrated, felt the Living Force. The Unifying Force.

They coalesced, and flowed together as one.

The energy was almost visible as it poured out of Qui-Gon, from his soul, through his body. It was like light bleeding from his fingertips...warm golden Light, and love in its purest form. Selfless. Giving. Undemanding. Truthful. Blinding, dazzling love, and Qui-Gon rejoiced as he felt a crack in the wall of Obi-Wan's defenses.

At last, Obi-Wan would know.

 

________________________________________

 

Belial was unprepared. His eyes flew open.

 

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon snatched his hands away.

Obi-Wan sat up, his eyes slitted and full of malice.

Qui-Gon stood. He'd felt the Darkness.

"Obi-Wan..."

He couldn't go on. He was cold all over.

Obi-Wan ignited his saber, pointed it at Qui-Gon's chest, backed him into the common room.

"Oh, gods," whispered Qui-Gon. "What have I done?"

To his utter shock, Obi-Wan laughed. "Not a thing...Master."

"Padawan...please..."

"Pleasant as it is to hear you address me so affectionately, Qui-Gon," the young man replied, "I must correct your error. I am not your Padawan."

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon was dumbfounded. How long had Obi-Wan been a servant of Darkness...months, years? Was it possible?

Obi-Wan held Qui-Gon a saber's length away and moved to the comm unit.

"I am not your padawan," he repeated, "though I must say I almost wish I were. Behold..." and he opened himself up to Qui-Gon's mental probing.

The darkness flowed, oily, molten, frigid, overwhelming.

Qui-Gon recoiled in horror. Not Obi-Wan! Not his beloved padawan! A similar Force signature, to be sure...similar enough to go unnoticed by a careless master...but underneath, the taint of Darkness, noisome, dreadful. And...a clone. Forbidden, a theft of life to create life...this time for the sake of evil. From his own apprentice...

Obi-Wan!

"What have you done with my padawan?" His voice was soft, deadly. He looked at the saber the clone held in his hands...it was Obi-Wan's. He'd watched the boy build it. His heart clenched, and a fear and rage he'd never known before overwhelmed him. He moved into a ready stance.

"Careful, Qui-Gon," the clone said, his eyes dancing gleefully. "I hold his life in my hands."

"Where is he?" Qui-Gon's voice grew even softer.

The clone grinned and hit some switches on the comm unit.

The hologram swelled to life-size, a clear, perfect resolution.

A young Zabrakian, standing at attention...

.....and at his feet, Obi-Wan. Naked. Bound. A collar around his throat, and a bruise on one cheek. He appeared to be unconscious.

The Zabrakian prodded his captive with a booted foot. Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered open.

 

________________________________________

 

He hurt.

His ribs were on fire, and all his muscles were aching unbearably. One shoulder was on the verge of separation, and he felt nauseated. He'd withstood the presence of Belial's Master as long as he could before unconsciousness claimed him. His body was weakened, and his soul was weakening. The presence was so powerful. He wasn't sure he could fight another assault.

He felt the foot in his spine.

Let me be, he thought. Let me lie here. Or kill me.

Again the foot, harder, against his injured shoulder, and the sudden sharp flare of pain made him open his eyes.

There was a blue glow. A hologram.

Belial. And Qui-Gon...Qui-Gon! His master, held at bay by his student's saber.

He struggled for breath.

"Master!" he cried, trying to rise on one elbow. The pain and his bonds made it impossible.

Qui-Gon was staring at him, and there was no sound...

Damn you, Belial...

Qui-Gon's mouth moved, and though there was silence, he could tell what Qui-Gon had said.

"Obi-Wan."

He felt a rush of terror and exhilaration seize him. Qui-Gon was unarmed. Obi-Wan had watched him lay his saber down. Would Belial kill him now?

He rolled over, and it hurt him, the pressure on his arms, oh gods, did it hurt, but he bore it, looked at the guard.

"Please," he begged. "Don't let him kill Qui-Gon. Please."

"It's not for me to decide, Jedi."

Obi-Wan turned back to the image of his master. Qui-Gon's eyes never left him, and he felt an inexplicable joy for all the danger he was in. Qui-Gon stood there, so unafraid, so calm...so noble, the most wondrous sight that Obi-Wan had ever seen, heedless of the glowing saber mere centimeters from his chest, unconcerned for his own well-being. His eyes were fixed upon his Padawan, full of anxiety. And love.

This may be my last opportunity, he thought, and he spoke.

"Master...love you. I love you."

Qui-Gon smiled at him. He opened his mouth to speak.

The hologram disappeared.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, reached out with the last of his fading strength.

Protect him. Help him.

He almost smiled. He could die now. Happily.

They would not turn him.

Never.

 

________________________________________

 

The hologram went out, and Qui-Gon turned his attention back to the clone, who was regarding him with an odd expression on his face.

"How long?" he inquired, his voice deceptively mild.

"Since the day you first fucked me," said the clone sneeringly.

"You planted the holodisc for the Council."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"That's not your concern."

"Who are you?"

"You may call me Darth Belial."

Qui-Gon nodded. A Sith. Why not, he thought wearily. What else could there be?

"What do you want with my apprentice?"

"He's my apprentice now...Qui-Gon."

"Hardly a willing one, I think," Qui-Gon said dryly.

"All in good time."

"I doubt that very much."

"You do?" said the clone mockingly. "Very soon now, Qui-Gon...he's close to breaking. I can feel it. The bond between us has replaced his bond with you. He suffers so beautifully, Qui-Gon, so beautifully. You've trained him well. But he will break. Every time he feels a surge of hope, there I am...crushing it. And he responds so well!" the clone laughed, and brandished the saber at Qui-Gon. "Ah...careful, there. I see you preparing. In any case, he's mine now. You relinquished your right to him years ago."

"I had no right to him."

"Words," replied the clone calmly. "I'm weary of this, Qui-Gon." He raised his saber to attack position.

"You would strike down an unarmed man?"

"I am no Jedi."

"Indeed you are not."

"Neither are you, remember?" Belial snarled. "You were a marvelous fuck, but you've outlived your usefulness."

Qui-Gon waited.

"Why won't you attack me, Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon's eyes bored into him, blue steel.

"Release my apprentice," he said. "Do as you wish with me."

"I'll do as I wish anyway, you damned fool."

"Release him," Qui-Gon pressed, pushing a wave of Force toward the clone. Not compulsion. Light, and love.

"Stop that!"

"He will never turn to Darkness. You know that."

"He's turning already. He'll join me, and sooner than you think."

"No."

"Yes!" The saber wavered.

"I love him, Belial." Qui-Gon's voice was like a caress.

"That's why I'm going to kill you," the clone whispered.

"And he loves me."

"Shut UP!" Belial cried. His mouth shook.

"Light and love. He is strong in the Force...you must know that. But he is a true Jedi. He will never turn."

"He will, you stupid, arrogant fool..."

"Have you ever known love, Belial?"

The clone gave an enraged cry, and at that moment Qui-Gon sprang.

But Belial was quicker. He deactivated his saber, and smashed Qui-Gon across the face with all his might. As Qui-Gon fell, Belial sent a dark current of energy into him, rendering him unconscious.

Belial knelt and examined him. He bent down and kissed Qui-Gon's unresponsive mouth fiercely. "I know love, Qui-Gon," he whispered. He stood, and viciously kicked the unconscious man in the thigh. He sobbed and ignited the saber again, raised it above his head.

And swung it into the comm unit. There was a crashing, sizzling noise, and sparks flew crazily.

He deactivated the saber and threw it down beside Qui-Gon's inert form.

"Sleep," he hissed. "Sleep. And if you do manage to wake up, I'll send Obi-Wan to cut your throat."

He swiped angrily at his eyes and stalked out.

End 12

 

C h a p t e r 13

________________________________________

 

The guard had walked away from Obi-Wan, and now he returned, holding an old-fashioned syringe.

"What is that?" said Obi-Wan.

"Something to ensure your docility," replied the Zabrakian quietly. He knelt next to Obi-Wan and pushed the needle into his hip before Obi-Wan could react.

"Your idea?"

The guard smirked. "Lord Belial's. A practical solution, though."

"Why is that?"

"We're leaving Coruscant, Jedi. It'll be much easier to smuggle you aboard a ship if you're unconscious, "

Obi-Wan focused on the guard. His eyes were pale amber and fixed on his captive. Obi-Wan's eyes widened. He hadn't caught it before; he'd been consumed by fear, anger and pain. But now he was able to think more clearly, and he felt the eddy of the Force.

"You're Force-sensitive."

"Yes."

Obi-Wan studied him intently. The Zabrakian's shields were strong. He would have presumed that anyone in the employ of the Sith was dedicated to Darkness, and yet he caught no true feeling of Darkness from this man. He felt a brief sting of compassion for the Zabrakian. Whatever else he was, he was strong in the Force. How had the Jedi missed this one? Surely he wasn't much older than Obi-Wan himself.

"Don't waste your sympathy on me, Jedi."

"What is your name?" asked Obi-Wan. He felt dizzy; the drug was beginning to take effect.

"My name is not important."

"You know who it is you serve."

"I'm not an idiot, Jedi. I know of the Sith and their past."

"And you choose to serve them."

The Zabrakian bent over Obi-Wan. "Have a care, Jedi. I'm not cruel like Lord Belial, but I advise you not to anger me."

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. He lay his head on the cold stone floor, feeling the drug trickling through his veins. He looked back at the guard, who had risen. The drug was numbing the pain in his ribs and shoulder, a small comfort. He was so tired; his eyes were closing. One last thing, though; he knew, he was almost positive, but the Force was not his to command, and he needed the guard's help.

"He didn't kill Qui-Gon."

The Zabrakian closed his eyes for a moment.

"No."

"Why?"

The guard shook his head. "I don't know."

"Won't you please help me?" He had to try...

The guard knelt again and looked at the Jedi, his gaze unwavering.

"I serve the Sith, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Obi-Wan shook his head slightly. He tried to speak, to reason, to plead, but he couldn't, and his eyes closed and the blackness claimed him.

 

________________________________________

 

The Zabrakian stared at the drugged, bound youth for a long time.

The Jedi had endured much. The guard had seen the blood on the inside of the prisoner's thighs, and he'd felt the exhaustion and pain of the young man through the Force. He'd seen Belial storm out of the interrogation chamber, cursing in half a dozen languages, his mouth bleeding. A short time later he'd heard the agonized screams of the Jedi. He'd gone to another room where the cries were inaudible. Torture for the purpose of extracting information was one thing; retribution for what was probably an escape attempt was another thing entirely.

He admired the Jedi, he realized almost unwillingly. Lord Belial had often referred to them as a passive order of monks, soft and weak, but that was patently false. The young Jedi was possessed of remarkable strength, despite the physical torments inflicted upon him, and the stealthy, methodical assault upon his mind and heart by the Sith Lords...both of them. The guard had felt the presence of the clone's Master, a frightening, yet intoxicating presence, a presence that had never demanded the guard's allegiance. The Zabrakian wondered at that sometimes.

Obi-Wan shifted, and moaned as his broken ribs ground against each other. There was still pain, even with the drug, the guard realized.

He stretched out a hand, laying it on the injured body. Visualized the damaged ribs, saw other things: torn muscles, bruised internal organs. Sent healing Force into the Jedi.

Live, and fight, Jedi, he thought.

 

________________________________________

 

Belial maneuvered a speeder bike through the sublevels, ignoring the shouts and curses of those he narrowly missed hitting. He bent over the controls, scowling. Time was short now. They had to evacuate.

It goes badly, he thought. I've disrupted my own plans, and for what? For the two of them...

He dove into an alleyway and touched down. He slowed, but the bike still skidded, fetching up against the far wall with a crash, crushing the fore-sensors and instruments. He discarded the speeder and slipped through a narrow door.

He stopped on the other side. He felt a powerful urge to return to the Jedi Temple, to collect Qui-Gon, steal him from the fools who had cast him out.

Could he be turned? wondered Belial. It would be a greater challenge than turning Obi-Wan. Perhaps the three of them, together...Belial shuddered pleasurably. It was almost too delightful to contemplate...but it was too late to go back for him now. He started down the dark, twisting tunnel toward the Tombs.

No. If Qui-Gon awoke, he would search for Obi-Wan. And doubtless would not stop until his beloved apprentice was found. The Jedi would not aid him. They might search for the apprentice for a time...but failing to find him, would conclude that Obi-Wan had left voluntarily. Even if Qui-Gon were to reveal Belial's existence, there was little chance that the Council would believe him.

And so...Belial would leave a trail. Qui-Gon would follow, and then Belial would decide whether or not he could be turned.

Always two, no more, no less.

No, perhaps not. Times changed, and perhaps it was time for the Sith to change with them.

Either way, Obi-Wan was his. His fingers itched to roam over the Jedi's body again. He was so exquisite.. His innocence and purity of soul was beautiful, and his cries of pain and his struggles against Belial's advances were incomparably sweet. Once we're on Sullust and the Jedi Council is gone, I can focus on you, Obi-Wan, and the eradication of your will. We'll have time and time, and I will enjoy every second of it. Whether or not you enjoy it is not my concern.

But I think that eventually, you will enjoy it.

He came to the proper door, leaned into the scanner. The door clicked open, and Belial went straight to the interrogation chamber, heedless of the continued activity on the screens above him.

He swung the door open. The Zabrakian was standing over an unconscious Obi-Wan.

"You gave him the drug?"

"Yes."

"Good." He knelt beside the Jedi, ran a hand over his flank.

He glared up at the Zabrakian. "Did you remove his collar?"

"No."

He touched Obi-Wan again, then rose and grasped the guard by the front of his tunic. "You healed his ribs."

"Yes."

"I don't recall telling you to do that," he said, pulling the guard forward until he stood nose to nose with him.

"You didn't." The guard's voice was soft, but not fearful.

"Give me one reason not to disembowel you right now."

The guard said nothing. Belial shoved him away, and the Zabrakian righted himself gracefully.

"Ready the ship," said Belial, turning away from the guard, "and if I see you near him again, you'll pay with your life, I promise you that."

The guard turned and walked out.

Belial sank to the floor again and gathered the Jedi into his arms. He ran his fingertips over the slight growth of beard on the young man's face. He touched Obi-Wan's lips, that luscious mouth, slightly slack. He leaned down and took Obi-Wan's lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it, biting gently, his tongue exploring the Jedi's unresisting mouth. A faint moan escaped the Jedi, and Belial felt himself hardening. Reluctantly he withdrew, staring hungrily at his mouth, the lower lip vulnerable and bruised, slightly swollen, reddened. He shivered.

Ah, if there were time now, Obi-Wan...perhaps I'll experiment on Sullust. There are so many drugs that weaken resistance, and enhance pleasure. So many ways to intensify sensation. So many devices to make you feel every nerve in your body, alive with rapture or excruciation. A judicious amount of pleasure intermingled with agony...even a Jedi cannot fight forever.

He rose and unbound the restraints that held his prisoner so securely. He tossed them aside and stripped off his robe, and wrapped it around Obi-Wan. He lifted Obi-Wan, carrying him out of the chamber, through the room with its banks of monitors, and into the narrow hallway. He came to another door. There was a keypad next to it, and Belial hefted Obi-Wan's limp body over one shoulder and hit a series of characters. The door slid open, and Belial stepped into a lift.

Up, and up, and there was a pressure in his ears. He felt Obi-Wan stirring, and he frowned. Hadn't that fool of a guard administered sufficient amounts of the drug? He'd neglected to bring any more with him. He lay Obi- Wan on the floor of the lift and checked his belt. Nothing but food capsules, a tiny toolkit...wait. A medi-kit. He rummaged through it hastily. Hells. No sedatives. He returned the kit to his belt and picked Obi-Wan up again as the lift came smoothly to a halt.

The door opened, and he stepped out into a luxurious apartment, with crimson walls and dark furnishings. The door slid shut again, and Belial turned to gaze at the ornate carved panel that hid the lift door. He smiled. The public trough was bottomless, apparently.

He set Kenobi down on a low couch and hurried into the bedchamber. He found the outfit that was readied for him, shed the tunic and leggings, and dressed in the loose dark trousers, tunic, and cap of a Senate emergency medic. He carefully tucked the incongruous braid into the cap. He went to the 'fresher and activated the antigrav gurney that leaned against one wall, and pushed it into the receiving room where Obi-Wan lay. He positioned the gurney and hauled the Jedi onto it, pulling the restraining straps around him tightly. Obi-Wan stirred and moaned again. Belial hurried back to the 'fresher, pulled open cabinets and drawers frantically. There. A mild sedative, but fairly fast; Obi-Wan might be conscious, but he wouldn't be strong enough to attract attention. He went back to where Obi-Wan lay and pulled the hood of the Jedi's robe up, concealing his face. He ripped open the packet and sank the single-use needle into Obi-Wan's flesh. Obi- Wan made a small noise and his body twitched.

Belial pushed the gurney out into the crowded halls of the Senate living quarters complex. He kept his face down, using Force to navigate and clear a path. The crowd parted for him, and he hurried to the wing's docking bay where the Zabrakian waited with the ship. Almost there...he saw the ship now, its cargo hold hatch open, and he increased his pace, seeing Obi- Wan awakening. The Jedi moaned again, and Belial saw his mouth moving, trying to form words. Belial's hand dropped to Obi-Wan's leg and his fingers dug into the Jedi's thigh, a warning gesture.

/Be silent, Jedi. Or I will begin to fire randomly into the crowd./

 

________________________________________

 

He felt sick again.

But something was different, though it took him some time to realize what it was.

Slowly it came to him.

He was moving. And he heard voices. Hundreds of voices, the normal bustle of daily activity.

He couldn't see. And as awareness returned to him, he felt the comforting familiarity of his robe wrapped around him. Automatically he went to push his hood away from his eyes, only to find himself unable to move.

Restrained. Still. He contained his despair, and focused on his surroundings, listening intently.

He heard normal conversations...the mundane and the fantastic, dozens of languages. A public place, then, or public enough as made no difference. Still on Coruscant. He felt a hand brush against his leg.

He was prone, his body held still with wide straps. Felt an oddly familiar hum, and recognized the noise. An antigrav, and he finally knew how their departure from Coruscant was being engineered. A weary sort of desperation seized him, and he tried to shout, but could only produce the most pathetic of sounds. No one paid him any attention.

He felt a pressure on his leg, and heard the clone's threat.

He was sickened by the clone's casual disregard for life.

/You have a choice, Obi-Wan. You remain still, and no one will be harmed. If you cry out...these innocent creatures will suffer the consequences./

Obi-Wan made no futher attempts to be heard.

The clone and his prisoner boarded the ship. Obi-Wan felt the straps of the stretcher being unfastened. Belial lifted him off and set him down, pushing his hood back.

Obi-Wan blinked and looked around him, at his surroundings. His vision was still a bit hazy, but he was able to tell that he was in a small cell. There was a sanitary unit and a cot, attached to the wall; but for those, the cell was empty. Belial grabbed his wrists, and clapped a set of binders on them. He crouched down next to Obi-Wan and lay a hand on the side of his face. Obi-Wan looked at Belial.

"Qui-Gon..." he whispered.

Belial shook his head impatiently. "What of him?"

"Not...not dead."

"Not yet."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "You couldn't."

Belial smiled at Obi-Wan, a small, pointed smile. "I know you wish it were so, Obi-Wan. No harm in indulging your fantasies." He patted Obi- Wan's cheek softly.

"You couldn't. Why?"

The clone stared at him for a long moment. Then he inclined his body toward Obi-Wan, and his mouth found Obi-Wan's and fastened upon it. Obi- Wan's hands rose to fight him off, but he was still so very weak, and he could do no more than press his hands against the chest of the clone, seeking purchase and finding none. He felt the beating of the clone's heart, and the rise and fall of his breathing. The clone's hands closed upon Obi-Wan's shoulders and pulled him closer. His tongue slowed, probing the inside of Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan offered no response. He allowed the clone to ravage his mouth. He would not fight him.

He wanted to, though, so badly. He'd shut out the memory of the rape, but now all of the horrifying imagery came flooding back, and he wanted to pull away, to strike at the clone with all of his strength.

But he did not. He remained where he was, not struggling, and the clone's unwelcome intrusion seemed to go on forever, until Obi-Wan wanted to scream.

Finally it stopped, and Obi-Wan let out a low sobbing breath.

Belial stood. "True, Obi-Wan...I let Qui-Gon live. You want to know why. I'll let the notion enliven your idle moments on the journey to Sullust."

Belial exited the cell and touched a control on the outside of the cell wall. Immediately crimson beams of light spanned the doorway of the cell.

"Be careful, Obi-Wan. I don't want you damaged."

He left, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

Meditation came more easily now. He was calmer, not entirely at peace, but it would come.

He hoped.

 

________________________________________

 

There was a low, rumbling noise, and Qui-Gon was annoyed by it.

/Leave me alone./

/Qui-Gon...can you hear me?/

He felt a gentle tug of Force, pulling him out of the abyss of sleep.

His eyes opened.

Mace.

Qui-Gon sat up. "What do you want?"

Mace regarded him with raised eyebrows. "A thank-you would be appreciated."

Qui-Gon glared at him. "Ah. Thank you for ejecting me from the Order, Mace. I'm sure the Council is indebted to you."

Mace sighed. "Qui-Gon, you were always a stubborn fool, and you'll always be a stubborn fool."

Qui-Gon was silent.

"All right, that's enough," snapped Mace. "Obi-Wan has disappeared, and one of the healers is dead. Depa Billaba can't remember leaving the boy in the healing dome. I find you unconscious, and your comm unit destroyed. I just spent three hours trying to waken you. I sense Darkness and fear and anger. I think that you may be able to tell me what is going on, Qui-Gon. Do correct me if I'm mistaken."

Qui-Gon pushed himself to his feet. "Why should you believe me, Master Windu?"

Mace struck his palm with his fist. "Damn you, Qui-Gon...something's wrong."

"How extremely perceptive."

Mace rushed forward and seized Qui-Gon by the front of his tunic. "Tell me, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon gazed into Mace's dark eyes coolly. "Let go."

Mace released him and turned away. When he spoke again, his voice was soft.

"Where is Padawan Kenobi?"

"Padawan Kenobi has not been at the Temple for days." Qui-Gon's voice was icy.

Mace wheeled about. "What are you saying?"

"That was not Obi-Wan."

"Qui-Gon..." Mace shook his head.

"Qui-Gon shrugged, walked into his bedroom. Mace followed him.

"You're not serious, are you?"

Qui-Gon ignored him. He picked up the holo of himself and Obi-Wan, tucked it into his robe. He walked back into the common room. Obi-Wan's lightsaber, discarded by the clone, had rolled into the niche under the comm unit. He retrieved it and clipped it to his belt.

"Qui-Gon..."

"Yes?"

Mace's voice was unsure. That was a rarity.

"An impostor?"

"A clone."

Mace exhaled deeply. "Master Khadri?"

"Murdered."

"And your padawan?"

"A prisoner."

"Gods," Mace muttered.

"Excuse me." Qui-Gon brushed past the elder Jedi.

"Wait. Where are you going?" Mace caught his arm.

"To find Obi-Wan."

"How do you intend to find him?"

"Don't worry about it, Mace." He stopped, turned around. "One thing...I found the clone outside the Council Chamber. I don't know what he was doing...but you should exercise caution."

"Thank you, Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon nodded and pivoted on his heel.

"Qui-Gon! Wait!"

Mace walked toward him. Almost hesitantly he withdrew an object from his robe.

Qui-Gon's lightsaber.

Mace put it in his hand. Qui-Gon's fingers curled around it. He felt a surge of joy. I thought that it was gone forever, he thought. He clipped it to his belt next to Obi-Wan's saber, looking questioningly at Mace.

Mace met his gaze levelly. "I was going to destroy it. After I discovered you, I thought that perhaps...you would need it. I see I was right."

"I'm grateful to you."

"I don't need your gratitude. Find your apprentice."

"You didn't ask me about the holodisc."

Mace looked uncomfortable. "We can discuss that when Padawan Kenobi is safe and returned to the Temple."

"And the Council?"

"Leave that to me."

The corner of Qui-Gon's mouth twitched upwards.

"Thank you."

"Master Jinn...may the Force be with you."

Qui-Gon gripped Mace's hand and left his quarters.

/Obi-Wan...I am coming for you. Fear not, my love. I am coming./

end 13

 

 

C h a p t e r 14

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon stood outside the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu's query ringing in his ears.

"How do you intend to find him?"

It was a daunting task. Coruscant was populated by billions of souls. How indeed?

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and reached out through the Force. But not for Obi-Wan.

He reached out for the clone.

He felt a stab of bitter anger for a moment. Were it not for me, the bond... but quickly banished the thought. He was being self-destructive. Hadn't Yoda told him time and again that the past never returned?

"Make the decision, make another. Remake one past, you cannot."

Qui-Gon half-smiled, began again.

Cleared his mind.

Was calm.

At peace.

Slowly, carefully, he began to sift through the thousands of Force signatures in the Temple and its surrounding area, seeking the clone's. He brushed gently against the minds of the unwary, and veered off politely, never crossing the threshold of the unsuspecting...several dozen young initiates, not yet apprentices, and as yet unschooled in shieldingthemselves, delightful in their openness. Padawan apprentices in unguarded sleep. Two young Knights, engaged in sex, heedless of all but the pleasure of the moment. Masters who were so powerful that the Force simply emanated from them radiantly, obvious to any Force-adept. On and on he went, searching for that thin trail of Darkness, casting about in his memory for the clone's imprint. He'd connected with him, briefly, and that link, tenuous as it was, was enough to establish...there. And there. He'd found it at last, the signature, and it was like seeing Obi-Wan swathed in deep shadows. Too close to Obi-Wan, that genetic stamp...the clone was a copy, and a copy could never exactly duplicate an original. There was always a weakness, a flaw...something not quite right.

It is not Obi-Wan, he told himself. His stomach did a sickening roll as he recalled the two nights he'd spent with the clone. The confession, Qui-Gon's awkward declaration of love. The joining of their bodies, Qui-Gon believing the whole time he'd achieved his heart's desire. The betrayal, and Qui-Gon knew that he should have known then, that Obi-Wan would never have allowed things to go as far as they had and then run weeping to the Council. Qui-Gon had ignored this uncharacteristic behavior, too self absorbed to see the truth, multifaceted, shifting, yet ultimately evident. The benefit of hindsight, he thought.

The clone claimed to be a Sith Lord. Improbable, but he'd caught unmistakable assurance from the clone...Darth Belial. He was a young man; if what he said were true, if the clone was indeed a Sith Lord, there had to be a Master. A being more twisted and evil, and Qui-Gon thought of his young apprentice in the clutches of such Darkness and shuddered. Obi-Wan had to be rescued. Immediately. Qui-Gon's urge to proceed hastily and his fear for Obi-Wan conflicted with the Jedi ideal of action while at peace, of oneness with the Force. For a moment he thought of the Council's decision.

You are Jedi no more.

And yet. There was the matter of Mace. And his return of Qui-Gon's lightsaber. There was tacit acceptance in that gesture. But his status as Jedi was far from assured.

When Obi-Wan is safe...

Obi-Wan. The sight of his padawan, bound and bruised and clearly weakened, had torn at his heart, but he had seen at once the look of terror and hope on the young man's face, and so he had not shown the fear and anger that raged within. He knew that Obi-Wan, though strong in the Force and possessed of incredible courage, still looked to Qui-Gon in moments of doubt or his own perceived weakness.

He'd looked at Obi-Wan's face, that dear face he knew as well as his own, so young, so ineffably sweet. Obi-Wan, the eager pupil, thirsting for knowledge and enlightenment. The warrior-Jedi, top of his form in drills and tests. The restless boy, still impatient in many ways, but absorbing instruction with commendable humility.And the man, quiet and dignified, yet ready with a quip or a smile in a difficult situation. He looked into the eyes of the man Obi-Wan had become in his nine years of apprenticeship, and he'd been stunned anew by the strength of his emotions. He'd been unable to do more than whisper Obi-Wan's name.

A change had come over Obi-Wan's face then. He'd turned to the man standing over him and spoken to him. Qui-Gon was unable to make out his words or the jailer's reply. But then Obi-Wan had turned back to Qui-Gon, and his eyes were shining. He spoke, and this time Qui-Gon knew what Obi-Wan had said.

"Master...love you. I love you."

Qui-Gon knew then that it was so. Had always been so, and he smiled at Obi-Wan, wanting to weep, not caring about the saber pointed at his chest or the being that wielded it. Obi-Wan loved him.

And now he would be found, if Qui-Gon had to kill or die to find him.

The clone's Force-signature had been captured by Qui-Gon. It would take time to find him, but he had no doubt that he would succeed. When the clone was found, Obi-Wan would be with him, and possibly, Belial's Master. Could Qui-Gon strike down the clone and his Master? Were the Sith as powerful aslegend would have him believe? Was it embracing Darkness to strike it down?

A Jedi cannot allow evil to occur...

Qui-Gon caught the faint Darkness again, and held on, suffering the similarity to his padawan.

May the Force guide my steps, he thought.

He began to follow the trail, and disappeared into the teeming crowds.

 

________________________________________

 

Obi-Wan lay curled up on the narrow cot, huddled within his robe.

The ship was freezing cold. There was no blanket on the cot, and Belial had not provided him with any additional clothing. He was used to the chill of space, but he'd always been dressed in at least two tunics and his leggings and robe, and his boots. He drew his knees up and tucked them between his arms, still manacled at the wrists.

It would take less than a Standard day to reach Sullust, if his memoryserved him correctly. The ship was small, but its tanks seemed large enough to make the journey without refueling. No chance for escape before they reached their destination.

The Zabrakian, thought Obi-Wan. There was a chance there, no matter how slim; Obi-Wan had seen the slight hesitation in the man's expression. He hadn't seen him at all since they'd boarded, though; Obi-Wan would have to be patient.

He shifted, and suddenly realized with some astonishment that his ribs no longer hurt. Nor did his shoulder, nor did any other part of his body, though hours before the pain had been considerable. Someone had healed him as he lay unconscious. Belial, or the guard? The guard seemed to have some measure of compassion; but Belial was perverse enough to heal him before hurting him again.

He would not ask. Let the truth reveal itself.

The beams crossing the doorway disappeared and Belial stepped through, still wearing his medic's disguise, though he'd removed the cap. His braid stood out starkly against the dark fabric. He carried a tray with a cup and a bowl on it. He turned, raised a hand, and the beams shot back into place.

"Obi-Wan." His voice was affable. "How are you feeling?"

Obi-Wan returned the clone's gaze flatly, choosing not to respond. Belial was so unpredictable. Obi-Wan, in the interests of his own safety, strength, and sanity, decided that silence was the best response to anything the clone said.

Belial sauntered to the cot and sat on the edge. He patted Obi-Wan's thigh, balancing the tray on his lap. A delicious odor drifted from the tray, and Obi-Wan's stomach clenched tightly. How long had it been since he'd eaten?

"Hungry?"

Obi-Wan considered. If he made no response, Belial might very well starve him.

"Yes."

Belial smiled. "Then eat."

Obi-Wan sat up and glared at the clone suspiciously. Was this a trick of some kind? But Belial set the tray between them, and Obi-Wan looked down, saw a thin, wonderful-smelling soup inside the bowl. Hesitantly he picked it up, afraid that the clone would dash it from his hand.

Belial simply smiled at him.

Obi-Wan sipped at the soup. Hot and savory, it hit his throat and stomach like a blessing. He consumed it cautiously, not wanting to get sick. He set it down and took the cup and took a long draught of cold, sweet water.

Oh, Force, it was wonderful, and he felt some of his strength return.

"Poor padawan."

Obi-Wan looked at the clone, startled. There was an unexpected sadness in his voice. He's provoking you, Obi-Wan thought to himself. But the clone's face...it was reflective, his eyes focused on the opposite wall.

"How must it feel to be torn from the Order, from your home, from your Master who loves you so very much?"

There was no mockery, and Obi-Wan stared at him. He's mad, he must be, I've seen him go from rage to delight to lust in mere seconds. He took another drink of water.

"I envy you the depth of your experience, Obi-Wan. Pain is as natural to me as breathing. My Master taught me to embrace pain. It must be amazing to feel its newness."

"Shall we trade places?" said Obi-Wan, a trifle bitterly.

Belial's mouth twisted in a grim smile. "You would never hurt me as I've hurt you."

"No," replied Obi-Wan. "I would not."

"I thought as much."

"How much do you think you can bear?"

"I shall bear what I must until I escape."

"Or until Qui-Gon comes for you."

Obi-Wan turned away from the clone. Belial set the depleted tray on the floor and ran a hand down Obi-Wan's back. "You're so transparent, Padawan Knight. You still think that he's going to save you."

Obi-Wan's voice was a low murmur. "He will come."

"I know that, Obi-Wan. I'm quite looking forward to it."

"Why...so that you can take his life?"

"Not necessarily."

Obi-Wan faced the clone again. His voice dripped scorn. "You think to turn him? He is and will always be a Jedi, no matter what the Council says. He will never turn."

"Do you know, he said the very same thing about you...how very amusing. In any case, I haven't decided Master Qui-Gon's fate yet."

"Take care, Belial. You may find that he will decide your fate."

"Jedi...it is entirely possible that none of us may survive this. Have you forgotten toward whom we travel?"

"Your Master. Is he aware of your treachery?"

"My intentions, you mean?" Belial shrugged. "Possibly. It matters little."

"I will never consent to become your apprentice, and if you die, you die in vain."

"You wound me, Obi-Wan. But remember that I can always hurt you more."

Belial rose from the cot and faced him. "On your knees."

Obi-Wan glared at him. "No."

"Get on your knees, Obi-Wan, or when we land on Sullust, I'll kill ten citizens at random."

Shaking with helpless anger, Obi-Wan got off the cot and knelt before Belial, who began to unfasten his trousers.

"Now...we have unfinished business, Padawan. You're going to take me inside your mouth, and you're going to pleasure me. If you fail to satisfy me, or if you injure me even slightly, people will die, I promise you." He grinned. "I assume you've done this before. I'll reciprocate, eventually." He placed a hand on either side of Obi-Wan's head and guided him close to his penis.

"Open your mouth. Open it."

Obi-Wan shut his eyes as he felt the tip of Belial's penis pressing against his firmly closed lips. I can't do this, he thought.

"Oh, but you can. Open." The clone's voice was silkily menacing.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, and nearly gagged as Belial pushed himself in.

"Ah...that's good, Obi-Wan. So good."

Obi-Wan's bound hands had clenched into tight fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. Belial had defeated him again. It was perform or suffer the death of innocents. The clone's penis started to harden and swell inside Obi-Wan's mouth, and he wanted to vomit. The soup began to rise, and he forced it back down.

Belial remained perfectly still, his hands still grasping Obi-Wan's head by the hair. He sighed.

"That's good...ohh, yes, padawan..."

Obi-Wan's chest hitched in a silent sob, and Belial gasped at the constriction.

Qui-Gon, please. I can't take this anymore. I can't.

Belial's hips started to undulate slowly, and he groaned softly.

"There..."

Obi-Wan increased the pressure of his mouth and of his tongue, praying that the clone would hurry.

Belial pumped into him with more urgency.

On and on he went, insatiable, and Obi-Wan sucked and licked and pulled, wretched and alone, his dark twin fucking his mouth mercilessly. He was horrified to feel his own penis beginning to stir. Aroused, against his will? It couldn't be, and he fought against it, willing himself to calm and failing. His mind and soul cried out for deliverance as his body did the clone's bidding.

Belial was bucking against him now, and he came with a strangled cry, hot fluid bursting into Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan pulled away and the clone was on him, his hand gripping Obi-Wan's face, forcing his mouth closed.

"Swallow it, Obi-Wan, like the little whore you are."

Obi-Wan shook his head frantically. He wouldn't, he wouldn't...

"They'll die, Obi-Wan."

Oh, gods, how much more was he to endure for the sake of others?

He swallowed convulsively.

Belial shoved him away, and Obi-Wan crashed to the floor.

Belial re-fastened his trousers. "I said I'd reciprocate, and I will, Obi-Wan, though not now. I think that you'd like me to, though, wouldn't you?" He smiled archly at Obi-Wan, who scrubbed at his mouth with the hem of his robe.

A wave of the hand, and the beams disappeared as the clone walked through the doorway. Once again they slid into place.

Obi-Wan waited until the clone had disappeared. He crawled to the tray that had been left behind and picked up the water cup. Took a draught, and rinsed his mouth, bitter with the taste of the clone's semen.

He held the cup in his hands for a moment, then hurled it at the wall, watching it shatter against the duristeel.

 

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon had traced the signature for hours, and it had led him here.

He craned his neck upwards. The Galactic Senate complex. Massive and sprawling, it was easy enough to hide within. He concentrated and felt the whisper of Darkness again. He frowned. How had Belial hidden Obi-Wan from sight? The hologram he'd seen had revealed little, but it was no Senate chamber or apartment he was familiar with. It had appeared gloomy and chill, unlike the Senate's usual frenetic activity.

Persons of all species hurried past the tall Jedi, intent and self-absorbed. Qui-Gon quieted his mind and reached again.

There was a shimmering in the Force. It beckoned him in two directions...up and down.

Qui-Gon considered. Would the clone have been so brazen as to hold his apprentice in plain sight? Possibly...his eyes suddenly fastened upon a man, secretive and tense, hurrying into one of the corridors that led to the sublevels.

Of course.

Qui-Gon followed the man into the corridor.

End 14

 

 

C h a p t e r 15

________________________________________

 

The Sith Lord, Darth Sidious, sat swathed in shadow, contemplating the perpetual hazy, orange glow of the Sullustan landscape.

A servant stood in the doorway, not moving. He had been standing there for nearly half of an hour.

Let him wait. Lord Sidious' servants knew better than to press him.

The Dark Lord was serene. Belial would come before him very soon, and he would bring the young Jedi.

And the Jedi Order would gain a new adversary.

Darth Sidious had never openly admitted to error. Not even to himself. Yet, he felt a touch of...was it unease...?

No.

Annoyance.

The Dark Lord was patient. He had searched for nearly two years, seeking the ideal candidate for his experiment, considering and rejecting hundreds of Jedi Knights, each more pathetic than the last. A soft lot...absurd that they were his nemeses. If not for their vast number, endlessly seeking and replenishing, he would have exterminated them all at once.

And then, at a Senate reception...a banal affair, but so necessary...he'd found him, through a powerful stirring in the Force.

A youth, sixteen or seventeen years old. Not at his full growth; he'd appeared even slighter standing next to his towering Master. Breathtakingly innocent, he'd remained close to his Master's side, even as the crowd threatened to pull them apart. Lord Sidious drifted closer, anonymous, innocuous.

The boy was lovely, and his beauty pleased the Dark Lord. But more than that, he was strong, his Force-signature nearly overwhelming. He'd probed, and had been amused to observe that the boy...Obi-Wan Kenobi... was desperately in love with his Master. And...even more hilarious...the Master was in love with his apprentice. And their bond was weak. They had shielded themselves from each other.

Perfect. It was perfect. The Force had led him to this boy.

Lord Sidious disappeared and returned a short while later. He had focused on the boy and called him.

/Obi-Wan.../

The boy had frowned, and turned back to his Master, who was chatting with a senator from Alderaan.

Sidious was impressed.

/Obi-Wan...to me./

Obi-Wan turned hesitantly. Darth Sidious caught the faint alarm in the boy's mind and had smothered it, drowning the boy's consciousness in toxic reassurance.

/To me./

Obi-Wan had followed him to a room far from the noise and confusion of the reception. He stood in the doorway, some part of him aware that he was not there of his own will.

And Sidious saw his eyes opening wide, and felt his struggle, and for a brief moment the boy had almost won.

/Mas-/

Sidious had taken hold of the Padawan apprentice's mental cry and had crushed it, so that nothing remained but a tiny spark of defiance.

/Sleep./

/No.../

/Sleep./

And the boy had crumpled to the ground. Sidious lifted him and carried him to a couch, and had taken samples...blood, hair, skin...enough to ensure a perfect reproduction.

It had been so easy, and he had looked at the sleeping youth and had wondered if perhaps he should reward himself. Obi-Wan was so vulnerable, his head turned to one side, the braid, a hated symbol to the Dark Lord, yet somehow incredibly erotic on this helpless young man, fallen across his neck. Sidious let his hand roam over the youth's chest, his fingers slipping inside the tunic and brushing against a nipple. He skimmed the fabric of tunic and leggings and came to rest between Obi-Wan's legs.

No. No time for that. The boy's master was already growing concerned, and the risk of discovery was too great. Reluctantly he ceased his exploration and once more insinuated himself into the mind of the young Jedi.

/You will not remember./

He left without a backward glance.

I may not be able to avail myself of the pleasures of your mind and body, Obi-Wan Kenobi. But there will be another...and you have my gratitude.

He had gone to Sullust, to the vats built in secret and at enormous expense, and he had begun his work, watching the clone take shape, raw cells to embryo to youth, the Sith Lord feeding the clone dark energy, projecting knowledge; sciences, arts, history, the ancient saga of the Sith, tales of the Jedi, always weaving the Darkness into the lessons. Rejoiced when the clone responded, questions and confusion, and finally acceptance and devotion, eager for freedom, and when the accelerated growth was nearly complete, when the clone was close enough to Obi-Wan's age as made no difference, the Sith Lord freed him.

Belial had emerged from the vat a perfect disciple. Beautiful and deadly, and devoted in all ways to his Master and Maker. He had studied the information gathered by Sidious' droid spies diligently, copying Obi-Wan's movements, and voice, adding each gesture to his vocabulary until he was nearly perfect. Sidious too had watched the stolen data tapes, pilfered from the Jedi Temple, and had observed the progressing strength of the Padawan apprentice.

A shame that you must die, Obi-Wan. But I have my consolation...your twin.

His dark angel, and Sidious had pleasured himself, had reveled in Belial's tears of pain as he was raped repeatedly. Had taught the young man to absorb staggering amounts of pain and suffering, had provided him with the most skilled courtesans in the Republic and beyond, delectable food and wine alternating with periods of starvation, luxurious rooms with soft beds and filthy cells carved from stinking earth, with only nightcrawlers and disease-ridden rodents for company. Belial had begged and pleaded and raged and threatened to kill him, and Lord Sidious had shown him incomparable pleasures again, and agony again. He'd driven him in tests of endurance, both physical and mental. He'd jarred and frightened and pleased and hurt.

Shock upon shock until the lesson was learned, until pain and pleasure was one and the same.

Strength.

And finally his creation, his malevolent beauty, was ready. The night before Belial had departed for Coruscant, he had lain with his Master, willingly, so willingly, and Sidious had tortured him before taking him...never the kind of pain that scarred and maimed and disfigured, for marring Belial's beauty was not something he was willing to do. But he'd used the neural whip until Belial had been broken to screaming, and then had shown him great tenderness.

There was allways a lesson to be learned.

Belial sprawled in bed, his thighs parted shamelessly, his head tilted back, his hair flowing to the pillow. Sidious had taken a strand in his fingers.

"You'll have to cut this, my apprentice."

"It will pain me, Master. But not as much as my separation from you."

"How long will you watch?"

"Long enough to determine that which I need, Master."

"And then?"

"Obfuscate. Deceive. Destroy."

Sidious had nodded in approval.

But then...days had passed, and there was no communication. And Sidious had sent himself out, had plucked the thoughts from Belial's mind.

His apprentice had become infatuated with the boy. And worse, with the boy's Master. Lord Sidious had been enraged, and had almost gone to Coruscant to take matters into his own hands. At the last moment, he had relented. Belial would do what was necessary.

Lord Sidious had seen the shifting, chaotic tide of his creation's thoughts, sands in a desert. It had caused him some concern. Perhaps...perhaps the clone was unstable because the Force flowed so strongly within him.

Certainly it was not because of the treatment he'd received at the hands of his Master.

Belial was starting to fall apart, like an indifferently made doll. He thought himself possessed of his own will.

If only he knew how transparent he was, how easy it was to read his thoughts. Sidious had taught him well, but the young man had not enough skill and experience to hide his innermost thoughts from his Master. He sensed his defiance, his lust, his treachery. But he had not acted, even when Belial made the decision to keep the young Jedi alive.

And slowly he realized that Belial was correct. Obi-Wan was valuable. Too valuable to kill.

It was better, was it not, to take the Padawan as his apprentice. He was at a perfect age...initiates were too young; they were too untrained to suppress fear and anger. A Knight too heavily indoctrinated in the ways of the Jedi...too far gone to be useful. Masters...not even worth consideration.

But a Padawan apprentice...that zeal, that devotion to duty and the Light...that could be easily exploited.

Yes.

Obi-Wan would be his apprentice. It would be so pleasurable to subject him to the training necessary to embrace Darkness.

He would finally be able to taste the flesh of the young man he'd set eyes on years before.

Belial was right.

And that was as close as he'd ever come to conceding a point.

He would create life again. Clones, a vast army of clones. But not Force-adepts. They were too unpredictable, perhaps too strong, to trust. Millions of drones, content only to do his bidding.

And with Obi-Wan at his side...

Belial. Lord Sidious felt a stab of rage. Belial, his perfect beauty, was flawed, and he had not seen it in time. And now the clone had jeopardized his plans, so perfectly laid, with his illusions of love. He had nearly strangled Belial when he considered going back to the Temple for Qui-Gon.

You will pay for your defiance, my impetuous one.

How you will pay.

He turned his attention to the servant in the doorway.

"What is it?"

"Lord Belial has arrived."

"Have him bring Obi-Wan Kenobi before me. At once."

He turned back to the window, gazing at the noxious clouds of gas.

He smiled to himself.

Very soon now...

End 15

 

C h a p t e r 16

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Sullust, located in the Sullust system between Yetoom and Ithor, is a volcanic world, covered with thick clouds of gas. The surface of the planet cannot support life, and so the inhabitants of this forbidding planet have built vast underground cities in the network of caves under its surface. The cities of Sullust are renowned as resorts, playgrounds of the idle rich. One of these cities, Piringiisi, is especially notable for its hot springs and caustic green mud possessed of therapeutic qualities.

Piringiisi is a beautiful city. Its structures are stone, carved so exquisitely and intricately, that they appear as delicate lace. There are tall spires of the peculiar pale-green volcanic glass particular to the surface just above the city. Sweeping archways of the same glass line its streets, one after another, giving the illusion of eternity, of endlessness. To preserve the impression of light and air, though it is underground, the entire city is lit by day by billions of powerful lightglobes, engineered to give the appearance of sunlight.

The inhabitants of Piringiisi are dedicated solely to pleasure. Those who do not indulge themselves are employed by those who do. At any time of day, there are thousands of ways to amuse oneself, if one can pay the exorbitant prices that pleasure can sometimes demand. The finest food, beautiful and talented courtesans of all species, gambling, the adornment and preservation of the body...none of these things are inexpensive.

It is perhaps not surprising that there is more to the city than meets the eye. Any place that focuses upon hedonism above all else is bound to be corrupt in some fashion. Usually it comes of a widening class gap...the servants and the served. But if the servants, who are in the main native Sullustans, feel the gap, they rarely complain. Their needs are seen to by the benefactor who holds the city in the palm of his hand. An invisible benefactor who only rarely comes out of the outrageously beautiful stone palace he inhabits. Few Sullustans have ever seen his face, but all speak of him highly. He was instrumental, many years before, in the implementation of the city's industries that catered to the wealthy and caused Piringiisi's economic success. He provides for the Sullustans, makes them comfortable.

A comfortable populace is a docile populace. A docile populace never questions benevolent despotism, which crushes free will through providence. And the citizens of Piringiisi do not realize that the man who controls their city, their industry, indeed, their very lives, is the Sith Lord, Sidious. It is doubtful that even were they to be made aware of his machinations...financial gain through flattery, persuasion and trickery...self-aggrandizement in the stealthiest manner...that they would even care. Their needs and wants are addressed. What more is required?

The stone palace on the outskirts of the city is much-admired, though few have seen its interior, and those who have cannot be bribed to speak of it. It is enormous, with one spire shooting up through the ceiling of the cave that contains it. There is a single room at the top of this spire, in which sits the Dark Lord himself, black-clad, cloaked and hooded, watching the billowing, poisonous clouds of gas. He smiles to himself, certain of his eventual success.

 

________________________________________

 

Belial pulled Obi-Wan through the rooms of the palace. Obi-Wan's senses, dulled by the lightlessness of his prison and by hunger and pain, were assaulted by a profusion of riotous color and luxury in each chamber. Decadence upon decadence; gleaming halls hung with silk tapestries in deep blues and reds and purples, tiled floors polished to a mirrorlike perfection, deep soft couches piled high with cushions, small tables scattered everywhere, some covered with bowls brimming with fruit. The air was redolent with scent: flowers and food and the resinous substance that fueled the torches hung every few meters in rounded niches in the walls. Underlying the fragrant air was the slightly sulfurous odor that never disappeared, the smell of the planet's surface, its ash and lava, its clouds of gas.

They came to a door guarded by two Iktotchi who blinked at their approach, but at a gesture from the clone, they bowed and granted them passage.

It was a sitting room of sorts, and already occupied by several persons, painted and perfumed and expensively clothed. Some were dressed in the briefest of garments, scraps of silk held together by bits of metal. Courtiers, or whores, or both, they all gaped at Belial and Obi-Wan as the clone dragged the Jedi to a low couch and pushed him onto it.

"...My Lord?"

A woman slowly advanced, looking confusedly at the two men.

"Dreinn," Belial swept her into his arms and kissed her. She let out a little squeak of pleasure and clung to him. The others began to cluster round, murmuring, looking from Belial to Obi-Wan. Belial released the woman and dropped to the floor beside Obi-Wan, tugging affectionately at his unplaited braid.

"My friends," Belial said, "this is Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi."

A dozen pairs of eyes gazed at Obi-Wan with renewed interest.

"A Jedi Knight, my Lord?"

"Indeed he is. A rare prize, and a beautiful one...wouldn't you say?"

A slender young man with long auburn hair and full, pouting lips knelt and reached out and grazed Obi-Wan's mouth with gilded fingertips. Obi-Wan remained still, staring into the boy's bright green eyes.

He was a mere child, surely no more than fifteen or sixteen, and he moved with a wanton sensuality that filled Obi-Wan with a compound of pity and loathing.

The boy turned to Belial. "You look so much alike, my Lord," he breathed. "Is he your brother?"

Belial laughed. "No, Aran, my sweet one...no, not my brother. We are...related, however." He turned Obi-Wan's face to his and kissed him on the mouth. Obi-Wan shoved him away, knocking him to the floor, and the onlookers stepped back a pace.

"A fighter, my Lord."

Belial rose. "That he is. Hold him."

Several of the men and women eagerly complied, seizing Obi-Wan's arms and yanking them above his head. Obi-Wan struggled furiously as hands grasped him and held him down. Belial pulled Obi-Wan's robe open, exposing his naked body. There were soft noises of approval, and Obi-Wan averted his eyes from their hungry gazes.

"He is beautiful, my Lord. And strong." A woman's voice. "Is that why he wears the electrocollar?"

"It's not an electrocollar, my pet. It disrupts a Jedi's powers."

"It's true, then, what they say of the Jedi." The boy again, and his tone was reverent. Obi-Wan turned his head and looked closely at the boy, whose kohl-rimmed eyes were fixed upon him.

"What is it that they say of the Jedi?" said Obi-Wan.

"That you can run at incredible speeds...that you can call objects to your hand with the power of your minds...that you can crush a man's throat without touching him."

Obi-Wan's heart sank. This was a Republic world. Was this the reputation of the Jedi, as tricksters, or magicians? Was that all they knew of the Order? He fought a wave of despair again and forced himself to calm, ceasing his struggles against those who held him down.

"Yes, a Jedi Knight can do all those things. We use the Force to guide us and aid us. But all that we do is focused upon the Light. We are sworn to serve and to protect those who cannot protect themselves. We seek to stop those who would inflict suffering, or ignorance, or tyranny upon others." He looked at Belial, who smiled at him tauntingly.

"Aran," he said, "I am a prisoner here. Belial has abducted me from my home for his own evil purposes. And the one he serves-" and Belial's hand came down upon his mouth, and several onlookers were pushed away roughly.

"Get out," hissed Belial to the bewildered men and women.

Obi-Wan bit Belial's hand. Belial swore and slammed his fist into Obi-Wan's face. Obi-Wan fell from the couch, holding his bleeding nose. It hurt, though not badly. He smiled up at the clone, who glared at him and then wheeled upon the assemblage that had huddled together like frightened birds, alarmed at the conflict.

"I said GET OUT!" Belial screamed at them. They scattered, nearly tripping over one another in their haste to disappear. The door closed, and Belial and Obi-Wan were left alone.

Belial fell to his knees and pushed the Jedi to the floor, straddling him and holding his wrists pinioned above his head with one hand. With his other hand he grabbed Obi-Wan's hair, forcing his head back. Obi-Wan twisted under him, trying to kick him in the back, but Belial simply slid down until he lay full-length atop Obi-Wan's squirming body, effectively pinning him to the floor.

"That's the second time you've bitten me, Obi-Wan. I'll torture Aran to death if you make another move against me, I swear it."

Obi-Wan froze. "You-"

"Were you trying to enlist his aid, Obi-Wan? That was cowardly. Whatever happened to Jedi self-reliance?"

"I was not trying to enlist his aid," grated Obi-Wan. "They don't know what you are, or who you are."

"And what am I?"

"Clone. Sith. Evil."

"Obi-Wan...you will not see. I am as human as you are. You refuse to believe it, don't you? Don't deny it. You persist in seeing me as...what..as a droid? A cyborg? I may have been decanted, not born, but I am fully human, Obi-Wan. Your narrow vision can't accept that you and I are so close, so similar in so many ways. You fight me because it's easier to say that you were forced, isn't it? Easier than accepting the truth of what I am and the truth of what you will be."

"You prey on the minds and souls of others. Those people...you manipulate them, and they aren't even aware of it."

"Forget them, Obi-Wan. They're fools, every last one of them. Ignorant, willing bodies, too stupid to realize that they're not in possession of their own will."

"You deny them what is rightfully theirs."

"They exist to serve. Like the Jedi," said Belial, mocking him.

"You are not human."

"I am. You know that I am. And you fear that, you fear that you will become just...like...me," the clone said. "And you will. But when you do, there will be no further need for fear...you will embrace Darkness willingly."

"I'll die first."

There was a knock at the door. Belial rose and strode to it, flinging it open widely.

"I thought I said-"

The man in the doorway fell to his knees. "I beg your pardon, my Lord. But Lord Sidious commands you to attend him in the tower room, and to bring Obi-Wan Kenobi before him."

Belial turned and walked back to Obi-Wan, who had sat up and pulled his robe around himself.

"Do you hear that, Obi-Wan? He summons us."

Obi-Wan got to his feet. Belial raised an eyebrow.

Obi-Wan padded forward on bare feet until he stood directly in front of the clone.

"Let's not keep him waiting, then."

 

________________________________________

 

Thirty-eight levels down, and Qui-Gon was at last in unfamiliar territory.

Qui-Gon had only been in the sublevels on a few occasions, none of them particularly pleasant, and from all appearances they hadn't changed much. They were crowded, dirty, and rank, acrid clouds of steam rising from wide metal grates, massive structures slumped together, debris crowding the streets. There was never any sunlight or night sky in the sublevels, as most buildings, especially in the Senate district, were at least half a kilometer in height, and they were so closely grouped together that they blocked any view of the sky.

But this far...he'd never been this far down, nor had anyone else that he'd ever known. Even as a padawan, in his thrill-seeking, he'd never been this far. Once, when he was sixteen, he and Mace had gone in search of a bar that was rumored not to have seen the sun in ninety thousand years. They'd never found it, growing bored by the time they'd reached the thirtieth sublevel. There was nothing but wreckage, trash, hawk-bats, and shadow barnacles. Certainly nothing of interest.

Qui-Gon pulled his cloak more closely around him against the dank chill. He sidestepped the wreckage of an ancient speeder. His eyes picked out creatures scuttling away from him in the dark. Qui-Gon felt a brief flare of compassion for the fearful beings that shied away from him, beings compelled to live a subhuman existence, living-but not thriving-on foraged food...duracrete slugs and lichens, no doubt, making shelters in the burned-out husks of damaged starships and other refuse, their lives focused on bare survival.

He tightened his grip on his saber. He was a compassionate man, but not incautious.

Belial's Force-signature was stronger now. Qui-Gon had been correct in taking the downward path.

He increased his pace, almost seeing Belial's trail now. He hurried to a stairwell, an old transport-tunnel entrance. Down what seemed like a thousand stairs and it was almost completely black now. Qui-Gon powered his saber, holding it in front of him as a torch as he gingerly negotiated a path through the blackness.

He smiled with a touch of irony. He'd always regarded his lightsaber as intensely bright, its green glow illuminating everything around it. Now he realized that its radiance spanned less than two meters. Nevertheless, it was enough to keep him from tripping over layers of metal track and discarded slabs and chunks of duracrete without expending extra energy using the Force to assist his travels. This tunnel could be kilometers long, and Belial's Force-signature, though stronger, could take him hours to pinpoint.

His steps echoed in the silence, sounding as though someone or something was walking behind him, trailing him. Once or twice he spun around, saber held aloft, but there was nothing behind him. Nothing at all.

He continued his journey through the darkness.

The tunnel was long, perhaps two kilometers already, and the going was slow. Qui-Gon's foot touched something solid, yet yielding. There was a screech and he leapt back as the rat...Force, it was big...scurried away from him. He let his saber dip and was sickened to see that the rat had apparently been feasting on what was once a human being.

He stepped carefully over the pathetic corpse and began to hurry once again, almost running, his feet striking other objects, and this time he did not slow or stop to investigate. He felt an almost desperate sense of urgency. Obi-Wan in the midst of all this...a fierce protective anger swamped him, and he almost ran into the tunnel's dead end.

He stopped, breathing hard, frustrated. He switched off his saber and slid to the cold damp ground. Damnation, he thought angrily. I can find my way through Dagobah without a chart, why can't I find my own apprentice on Coruscant?

"When does a Jedi act, Padawan?"

Qui-Gon looked up, startled.

"Master?"

He'd heard Yoda's voice.

He swore he'd heard it, heard the old question that had been drilled into him again and again, unless his mind was playing a joke on him. It wouldn't be unexpected, he thought. I've seen and heard enough to make me think that I'm going mad already.

He had heard it, though. Tentatively he spoke.

"Master Yoda?"

Nothing. He dared not reach out through the old bond. The stern gaze of his former master was still too freshly etched into his memory. But...

When does a Jedi act?

The whispered answer rose automatically to his lips.

"A Jedi acts when calm and at peace with the Force. To act in anger is to risk temptation to the Dark Side."

That answer, that most elementary of principles, one of the first tenets of the Code...forgotten by him.

There is no emotion; there is peace.  
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.  
There is no passion; there is serenity.  
There is no death; there is the Force.

Oh...

Oh, yes...yes.

He stood slowly, and it was as though the tunnel had suddenly been illuminated in clean white light.

How long had he defied the Code, nurturing his guilt-stricken love for his apprentice? How long had he lived in shadow, not seeing what was in front of him, regarding the Code as an obstacle to be overcome, rather than as a guide and friend? There was no passion, no emotion...not as Qui-Gon had chosen to see it, no...but love could be encompassed within the Code, could it not? Of course, yes, and passion and emotion were elements of love, to be sure, but that was not the passion and emotion against which the Code warned. Qui-Gon laughed suddenly at the revelation and his own stupidity and stubbornness. He wanted to go to Yoda and fall at the tiny Jedi Master's feet and beg forgiveness. How many times had Yoda counseled him on points of view, and how many times had Qui-Gon simply ignored him?

He knelt and meditated.

All that I am is encompassed within the Force, he thought. Every moment comes to me with myriad possibility, only to pass on and into eternity, there to forever remain what I have made of it.

He rose again and turned to the dead end.

There, and he hadn't seen it before. A door, narrow, nearly invisible. Qui-Gon pushed it and it opened easily.

/Thank you, Master./

He ran swiftly through the corridor, which was feebly illuminated by dim suspensor globes. It was dazzling compared to the previous darkness, though, he thought. The clone's signature was so strong now...or was it that Qui-Gon was more receptive to the Force...? No matter, and he halted in front of a door. Belial's signature was especially powerful now, and he looked down. No handle. He drew and ignited his saber, and jammed it into the metal door, which began to glow orange, then white around the blade. Dripping metal splashed to the floor as Qui-Gon drew the blade up, cutting a passageway through the door. He kicked the center of the glowing rectangle and it crashed to the floor as Qui-Gon sprang inside, saber held in an attack position.

The chamber was empty.

There was some rubbish in the center of the room, and there were units on the wall that most likely held monitors at one time, but that was all. Qui-Gon advanced into the next room.

It was dim, and there was a single chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room. There were overturned racks everywhere. Bits of carbon rope littered the floor. Qui-Gon rested a hand on the back of the chair.

Obi-Wan...

He snatched his hand away as though he'd been scalded, and touched the chair again.

Yes. Unmistakable, they'd both been here, and he raced into the other rooms, finding nothing, but that faint trace of his padawan lingered. He went into the first room, searched the pile of scrap on the floor. Nothing. No evidence, no clues of any kind. He took a deep breath and concentrated. The Force had led him this far, and surely it-

/MASTER!/

"Obi-Wan!" He fell to his knees, shaken to the core at the cry, the first true mental communication from Obi-Wan in years, and he reeled at its impact. It was plaintive, desperate, longing, yet intermingled with another emotion...fear.

Not for himself.

For Qui-Gon.

/Obi-Wan!/

/Master...please...don't/

And that was all.

Time enough for Qui-Gon to fasten upon the cry.

He closed his eyes, settling into the deepest of trances, focusing inward, shedding all but the moment, the quietude of pure attention.

And he saw it, the place where Obi-Wan was held.

His eyes opened.

A ship. He needed a ship to take him to Sullust.

End 16

 

 

C h a p t e r 17

________________________________________

 

Depa Billaba was sitting in Yoda's chair, staring out the window. She didn't look up as Mace Windu came in.

He sat in his customary seat, next to her.

"I've often wondered what he sees from here."

"The same thing we all see...from a different angle."

She turned and looked at him. "Do you think so?"

Mace sighed. "Depa, when something troubles you, you become elliptical."

She offered him a slanted smile. "That's because my Master taught me to be elliptical."

"I?" Mace snorted. "I think not."

She shrugged, turned back to the window.

Several moments passed in silence. Mace waited patiently.

Finally she spoke.

"I sense Darkness."

Mace waited a few moments before replying.

"I sense it also, Padawan." The honorific slipped out before he could stop himself, and she smiled at him again. The smile quickly faded though, replaced by an expression of confusion and frustration.

"What happened to Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master? Why can't I remember what happened to him? And why do I sense that he has something to do with the Darkness I feel? Or is it Qui-Gon...and what he's done..." She trailed off helplessly, staring out the window again.

"Ever since I attained my seat on the Council, there hasn't been a time when this Chamber has failed to fill my soul with peace," she said. "I have always believed that the Council has acted with the greater good in mind. And now...now I sit here in this room, and I hear distant cries in the Force, and I know something is wrong..."

Mace put a gentle hand on her arm. "Depa...Qui-Gon..."

"What of him?" Her voice was cold.

"I restored his lightsaber to him."

She turned and gaped at him. "You...you gave it back? Master...how could you! After what he did..."

"You said it yourself." Mace's voice was low, urgent. "Something is wrong. You can feel it. I feel it. Why are you here, Depa? What drew you to this chamber? Why now?"

"I don't know," she confessed. She turned accusing eyes on him. "But you're evading me. Why did you give it back to him? He's no longer a Jedi. What if he tries to...to hurt Obi-Wan again? Can you live with that, Master, that knowledge?"

"We did not imprison him," returned Mace sharply. He stared at her for a moment, and his gaze softened.

"Depa...the young man you escorted to the healing dome...that was not Padawan Kenobi."

"What?" Her irritation was mounting. "What are you talking about?"

"A clone. A replicant."

Depa stood. Her face was pale with anger. "And who told you this...Qui-Gon?"

Mace rose, towering over her. He grasped her arms. "Tell me...am I lying? Was Qui-Gon lying to me?" He opened himself up to her, allowing her to sift through his thoughts, his memories. She sought an answer in his soul, and stared at him in shock.

"Not a lie," she whispered.

Mace nodded, not taking his eyes off hers.

"Where is Padawan Kenobi?"

"Qui-Gon believes him to be a prisoner of the clone. He has gone in search of both of them."

"Then the holo...but there is still the question of rape, whether or not the victim was Qui-Gon's apprentice."

"I think," Mace replied, "that we judged hastily."

"The evidence..."

"Seemed clearcut, yes. But did we give Qui-Gon a chance to defend himself?"

"But..."

"What was Qui-Gon's question to the Council?"

Depa frowned. She answered slowly. "He wanted to know where we'd obtained the holodisc."

"And did we answer him?"

"No, he..." she stopped.

She looked at him, her eyes wide with comprehension.

"Oh, Force," she whispered.

Mace walked to the window and stared out at the enormous expanse of city below them.

"How was it done, do you think?"

"I don't know," he said. "It may have been manipulated...or it may have been a portion of a greater whole...I'll study the disc at length."

"I still can't remember what happened," she said quietly.

Mace turned to her. "May I help you, Master Billaba?"

She nodded. The made their way to the center of the chamber and knelt facing one another on the stone floor. They stilled their minds and quieted their souls, disentangling themselves from wants and cares, and reached out to each other through the Force, their old training bond flaring to brilliant life again, and now it was Mace who probed, who sorted through the recent past, through the scene in Council, through her anger at Qui-Gon. Through her memory, he followed her and the young man through the halls of the Temple, to the healing dome. He watched as she smoothed the bedclothes, and saw the man...the clone...smile at her and cloud her mind. She was still angry at Qui-Gon, and persuasion had been a simple task for the clone, who was strong in the Force, as strong as Obi-Wan, but there was a current of Darkness there, skillfully concealed, but now, as Mace searched, he saw it, more and more clearly, and his heart was filled with dread.

In our midst, he thought. And Padawan Kenobi...

When it was over, Depa looked up. She was flushed. "I did not see it, Master," she whispered.

"Nor did any of us. You are blameless...as is Qui-Gon. I am certain of it."

She flushed again. "Should someone not be dispatched to assist him?"

"I have faith in Qui-Gon's abilities." Even though I intimated to him that I did not, thought Mace, and it was his turn to flush. "He will find his apprentice."

"The clone," said Depa suddenly. "Obi-Wan...how were his cells obtained?"

"I don't know," said Mace. "The theft of his life...a serious offense. I wonder who would be so disdainful of galactic law."

They stared at each other wordlessly.

The Chamber door opened, and Yoda came in, leaning on his stick, coming to a halt in front of the still kneeling Jedi Masters. His eyes were slitted and he regarded the kneeling pair keenly.

"Sense it also, do you?"

"Yes, Master," replied Mace. "Master...we must-"

"Wait." Yoda held up one hand. "Wait for the others."

"Will they come?"

Yoda said nothing, merely turned to the doors.

Adi Gallia strode in. She seemed unsurprised to see the others. She took her seat, a wary look upon her elegant features.

One by one, the rest of the Council came. Yaddle. Even Piell. Plo Koon. Eeth Koth. Yarael Poof. They all sat in their chairs, waiting. Yoda walked to his chair and sat. Mace and Depa rose and took their seats as well.

At last they were all there, grave and silent.

Mace took a deep breath and addressed the assemblage.

"Masters...you all feel the disturbance in the Force. I believe I know the source of the disturbance."

He stopped. Qui-Gon, he thought. I hope that you can forgive us for what we have done to you.

"Masters...I ask you to recall the events surrounding the summons of Master Qui-Gon Jinn..."

 

________________________________________

 

The lift opened onto a small antechamber. Two red-robed guards with force pikes stood in front of a pair of bronze doors.

Belial's grip tightened on Obi-Wan's arm.

"Lord Sidious has summoned us."

"You are to go in first," said one guard. He pointed at Obi-Wan. "He is to wait."

Belial pushed Obi-Wan to his knees.

"Wait here, Obi-Wan."

The doors opened, and he walked into the Dark Lord's retreat.

As the doors closed, Obi-Wan struggled to rise to his feet, but one of the guards jabbed him dispassionately with the force pike. The weapon's powerful stun charge sent Obi-Wan crashing to his knees. He forced himself not to cry out. The guards stood silently, looking down at him.

Patience, Obi-Wan told himself. Are you so anxious to look into his face?

He waited.

 

________________________________________

 

Belial made his way to the throne...for it could be called little else...of the Dark Lord. He dropped to his knees and looked at the floor.

"Master."

"Apprentice."

A pale hand reached out and cupped the clone's chin, tilting his head up. Belial looked into the face of his Master and smiled beatifically at him.

"I have missed your presence, my student."

"As I have yours, Master."

"Have you?" The voice was mild, and for a moment Belial felt the cold clutch of fear in his heart. He knew, he knew everything, and his anger would be enormous. There would be pain again.

"Master..." He stopped, feeling something like a needle of ice being dragged through his body, agonizingly cold. It was a familiar sensation, and he waited as it was replaced by almost unbearable pleasure, and Lord Sidious pushed his hood back, revealing the face of an ordinary man, with ordinary features.

Belial was swept into the Dark Lord's arms, and they kissed hungrily, greedily, embracing each other tightly.

"Oh, my apprentice...what have you done to me? I trusted you, my love, and you have betrayed me."

"Master...master..." Belial was weeping. "Forgive me."

"You are not ready for the burden of being a Master, Belial. You should have realized this."

Belial kissed him again, his tears wetting Sidious' face.

Lying tears, thought Sidious. But I taught you thus.

"I am prepared to forgive, my apprentice. I am prepared to be generous."

"Thank you, my Master."

"You must perform two tasks for me, my love."

"Anything, Master."

"You will aid me in turning the young Jedi. You have an intimate knowledge of the tools necessary for this task."

"Yes, Master. And the second task?"

"The boy's master is coming. I sense his impending presence. You will kill him. You will kill him in front of the boy. And it will be the slowest, most painful death that you can devise."

Belial was silent.

"I feel your hesitation, apprentice mine. Why is that?"

"Master...I had thought-"

"You had thought to turn him. Yes?"

"Yes, Master."

Belial's eyes widened as he felt a tightness at his throat.

"And what made you think that you could accomplish such a feat?" inquired Sidious, his voice silky.

"I...I felt...his conflict...darkness..."

The Dark Lord's hand shot out and seized Belial's braid, drawing the clone, who was struggling frantically for breath, forward.

"Conflict? Conflict?" spat the Sith lord. "If such a thing ever existed in Qui-Gon Jinn's mind, it is gone now. Do you remember nothing of my teachings? A Jedi Master is to be destroyed...not turned. They are too close to the Light, my beautiful apprentice." The Sith's free hand found Belial's cock and started to fondle it.

"What are your true feelings for Master Jinn? The conflict is within you, perhaps. You delude yourself, my beauty. Qui-Gon Jinn's feelings are for his Padawan apprentice, not for you. You must accept this."

He continued his assault, rough and expert.

"Why, my student, did you allow your identity to be revealed to Qui-Gon Jinn? Why, when all of our plans were so carefully laid? The source of the sabotage upon the Jedi Temple was supposed to be Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now, Jinn knows. And he may inform the Council." Sidious cocked his head delicately as Belial struggled to speak.

"Oh, I know, Belial. He is in disgrace. Another foolishness of yours. You were to have kept contact with the boy's master to an absolute minimum. But no..." he sighed. "You allowed your desire to take precedence over your mission. And you underestimated him, and in doing so, you have brought suffering upon yourself.

"You thought to defeat me. You thought to make Kenobi your apprentice. You have caused me no end of trouble with your stupidity. I have had to recallour forces on Yrrna because of you. Tell me why I should not simply kill you, here...now."

Belial thrashed helplessly at the dual sensation of oxygen deprivation and erotic stimulation.

"There are no answers, are there, my love? You are damaged. But you are still mine. And you will do my bidding. You will obey me in all things. And you will suffer penance until I am certain that your loyalty is restored."

He released Belial's throat and his cock. The sudden rush of air caused an orgasm unlike any Belial had felt before. He crashed to the floor, sated, his breath coming in harsh, tearing gasps.

The Dark Lord pulled the hood up again, shadowing his face.

"Arise, my love. Bring Kenobi before me now. We will begin his instruction."

 

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon hunched over the controls of the small freighter, pushing it as fast as he dared.

Seven or eight more hours to Sullust.

Oh, Obi-Wan, he thought. I can only imagine what they've forced you to endure. Please, love, a few more hours...trust in your strength, trust in the Force.

He began a litany.

Panic has no place in the mind of a Jedi...

 

________________________________________

 

...all danger passes....one need only be prepared...

Obi-Wan looked up as the doors opened and Belial stepped out, breathing hard, his face scarlet.

Belial hauled him to his feet by his manacled wrists and yanked him through the doors.

Obi-Wan quickly took in the details of the room. It was massive, cavernous, hewn from smooth black stone. There was a huge window at the far end of the chamber. Obi-Wan could see the strange reddish clouds of the atmosphere, and through the haze he saw the glow of lava oozing from the slowly churning interior of a nearby volcano.

Against the window was a figure seated in a chair. Any figure would have seemed insignificant against the window and the awesome landscape below.

Except for this one.

The figure did not move, but a voice rang out.

"Welcome, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Obi-Wan gazed intently on the black-robed figure in the chair. He was hooded, and the folds of the hood hid his face almost entirely.

Belial released him and stood back. But for that one chair, the room was entirely empty. Those who came before the Dark Lord in this chamber were not encouraged to linger.

Obi-Wan remained where he was. The stone floor was cold and smooth against his bare feet.

"Are you afraid, young Jedi?"

"No." Obi-Wan's voice was clear and strong. No, I am not afraid of you. You can hurt me, break my body, even kill me, but I do not fear you. I will not fear you.

Darth Sidious stirred. "No. Perhaps not. You were performing the Fourth Litany for serenity. Astounding, is it not, the power of faith in words? You repeat a litany, and you believe it. You take the vow of devotion to the Jedi Order, and you believe. Words, young Jedi, do not bruise or bleed. But you put your faith in them, and in the Force that you cannot command. You repeat the litanies, and the fear is gone..."

The Dark Lord stopped.

"You lie, young Kenobi. You do feel fear. But not for yourself...no. For your Master, whom you love above all else...still. How touching.

"He is coming for you, Jedi. He disregards his own safety for your sake. My apprentice," Sidious said, raising his voice slightly, "what are your plans for Qui-Gon Jinn?"

"Master," replied the clone, his voice oddly hoarse, "Qui-Gon Jinn will suffer the slowest and most painful death that I can devise."

"No," whispered Obi-Wan, taking a step forward. Sidious raised his hand, and the collar around Obi-Wan's neck unlatched and clattered to the floor.

Oh, sweet gods above, he felt it, he felt the Force again, and it washed over him, swirled around him, enveloped him in strength and blinding energy and he was nearly overcome with joy. Unhesitatingly he sent a call to Qui-Gon with all his might.

/MASTER!/

He felt Qui-Gon at the other end of the bond. It was not broken! Not gone! Fragile, yes, damaged, perhaps, but still there, that connection, and he'd been blind for years, not realizing how much he'd missed it, missed the reassuring, loving presence of his master, and if he never saw Qui-Gon again, then this moment of contact in the midst of servants of Darkness would be his most cherished memory. He would hold it close to himself, no matter the span of his life--

/Obi-Wan!/

He had to warn him, had to keep him away from this place.

/Master...please...don't/

And suddenly there were smothering walls of Darkness surrounding him, stifling his call, cutting him off from the Force once again. He fought the terror that arose and won, facing the Sith Lord serenely. There had been time enough, he thought. Qui-Gon had heard enough.

Sidious laughed.

Obi-Wan stared at him unflinchingly.

"You've done well, young Kenobi."

"He will not come."

"On the contrary, Jedi. You have all but charted his course for him."

"What?" Obi-Wan's voice was small.

"Master Jinn was not aware that you were on Sullust, Obi-Wan. Your call has enabled him to find you. And you can't think that he would abandon his own beloved Padawan Apprentice to the Dark...you have saved us the trouble of finding him ourselves. We thank you."

Belial walked past him and slid a hand down his arm. Obi-Wan, frozen with shock and horror, did not respond. Belial stopped at the throne and slid to the floor, draping his upper body over his master's legs. He smiled at Obi-Wan.

What have I done...oh, Force help me, what have I done?

The walls of Force still imprisoned him, choking, suffocating. He wanted to drop to the floor, to give in to despair once and for all.

/Master...forgive me/

Sidious laughed again, and this time Belial joined him, and their laughter echoed throughout the chamber.

"Fear, young Jedi, is a powerful ally to the Dark Side. You have taken your first step towards the Darkness. Tell me, how does that feel?"

Obi-Wan's vision blurred. A tear ran down his cheek.

Belial and Sidious exchanged a glance. Belial stood and walked to Obi-Wan again. He pulled him closer to the Sith Lord's throne, and forced him to his knees. The Dark Lord gazed at him, and Obi-Wan could not see his face, could not focus. Sidious' hand, cold and white, grazed Obi-Wan's cheek, tracing the path of the tear.

He turned to Belial. "Leave us."

Belial bowed and exited the chamber.

Obi-Wan was alone with the Sith Lord.

Kill him! his mind screamed. He will kill Qui-Gon, and if you don't turn, he'll kill you too.

"By all means, Jedi. I am unarmed. You are young and strong...kill me."

He tried to lift his hands, but found it impossible. He could not move at all, and a tightness enveloped his entire body, crushing the air out of him. That cold hand remained on his cheek, caressing, now toying with the loosened braid, now sliding inside his robe, chilling his flesh.

"I made my creation in your image, Obi-Wan Kenobi, because you are strong in the Force. Years ago I came and took from you what was necessary to duplicate your strength...and beauty. And he is strong, my Belial, and he is as beautiful as you are. But he's not...perfect, Obi-Wan. He is not innocent. He is not pure of heart. He is damaged in some way. Something went wrong...something in the replication process. I must begin again. And I shall begin with you. Belial will kill Qui-Gon, and you will have your revenge. He hurt you, did he not? Yes...he did, and you will make him suffer for it. I feel the hate rising in you, Kenobi. Let it guide you."

"No."

Obi-Wan shook with the effort it took to spit that single syllable out.

The constriction eased slightly, and Obi-Wan gasped, remaining upright through sheer will.

The Sith Lord stood.

"Jedi." His voice was a snarl. "You will suffer unimaginable pain if you resist me. And if you continue to resist me...you will die."

Obi-Wan strained to focus on the Dark Lord's face. Again it was impossible; it was as though the Sith lord was making himself dim...as Belial once had. A tool of the Dark side.

Tools and tricks, and evil, hate and rage and lust for power, and Obi-Wan went inside himself, focused upon that fleeting connection with Qui-Gon. There it was, and he envisioned the bond as he'd been taught, the image Qui-Gon had given him when he was thirteen.

"The bond is a bridge, Padawan. It joins Master and Apprentice through the Force. Through it we are connected, and every day it is strengthened by our dedication to the Order and to the Light. It grows as we grow, and we are rooted and grounded in it. It is nearer than the breath in our bodies, closer than our flesh. Trust in the Force always to strengthen the bond, for it will never abandon you."

And it did not, thought Obi-Wan. I am not abandoned.

There is no death; there is the Force.

I am not afraid.

Darth Sidious loomed over him.

"You will be, Jedi. You will be."

End 17

 

 

C h a p t e r 18

________________________________________

 

Blackness.

Pain.

He stirred.

Fully awake now, and he could not see at all. He took in what information he could.

He hung from a primitive set of chains. His toes brushed against the floor buthe could not support himself. His shoulders and wrists were on fire.

They'd taken his robe from him. He was cold, and yet there was a heat in the room, a heat and a stench...sulfurous, nauseating. He lifted his head.

He took a deep breath, suppressing a gasp. Oh, it hurt, and his hands were painfully swollen. He flexed his fingers, trying to encourage circulation.

How did I get here...I can't remember...

There was a noise...a scraping, bootsoles against stone.

"Obi-Wan."

He froze.

"Master?"

"Yes."

He nearly wept with relief. Oh, thank the Force...he twisted in the chains, straining to see Qui-Gon in the darkness.

"Master, hurry, they'll be back, please, my hands-" he babbled, and a hand brushed the inside of his upper arm.

"Master, please," Strained urgency in his voice now. /Master, hurry!/

There was a snap, and a sudden flickering light as a wall-torch was lit.

Qui-Gon stood in front of him, and Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes stinging, and Qui-Gon spoke.

"My apprentice." There was bitter scorn and contempt in that voice, and he shrank from it.

"Master...?"

"How easily you have succumbed to Darkness, my apprentice. You are unworthy of the rank of Jedi padawan."

"No, Master...I haven't..." His face was stricken.

"You have. Crawling after me for years like a beaten cur, slavering at my heels." Qui-Gon stepped in front of him, and there was an expression on his face that made Obi-Wan want to die. It was hatred and disgust, and he'd never seen it on Qui-Gon's face and now it was directed at him.

"Please, Master...I love you."

"I know that, Padawan," sneered Qui-Gon. "You think I haven't noticed after all these years, those looks you give me, like a bitch in heat? All these years, Obi-Wan, and at your first encounter with Darkness, you wilt and submit...you have disappointed me beyond all reckoning."

"No."

"Yes, yes, yes, Obi-Wan. You are no longer a Jedi. And neither am I. And why is that, little bitch-whelp?" he said, grabbing Obi-Wan by the hair and pulling his head back, forcing Obi-Wan to meet his eyes, like flint, like steel.

"Belial-"

"No," whispered Qui-Gon. "Even in Darkness you shirk responsibility. Had you been a true Jedi, Belial would have never set foot on Coruscant. To think of the years wasted on you, and you are the one responsible for my expulsion." The fingers tightened in his hair, and he stared into his beloved master's face.

"Qui-Gon?"

A sharp slap against his cheek, and his head snapped back.

"You dare address me so?" A hand slid down and grasped his hip. "Well...since we are no longer Jedi, Obi-Wan, I suppose I can allow it..." The hand began to move, fondling, kneading, nails digging into his ass, sharp and hurtful. Qui-Gon's head lowered to the sensitive skin of Obi-Wan's armpit. Obi-Wan gasped as a strong tongue probed deeply. A sudden burst of pain made him cry out, as Qui-Gon's teeth sank into his flesh, and he struggled desperately in the chains.

This isn't happening! he cried to himself, as he felt those hands on him, prodding and pinching, hurting him. He was barely aware that he was uttering cries of denial, and he sent a plea winging to Qui-Gon, his loving Master, the man who had guarded and protected him since he was a child. The plea went unanswered, and Obi-Wan moaned as the hands held him apart, and Qui-Gon dropped to his knees and forced his tongue inside him, oh, gods, he never wanted it like this...

/Master, please, I would have given freely, why would you do-/

/Obi-Wan?/

His head jerked upright.

There was a muffled noise of fury from beneath him.

"Careless of me."

Obi-Wan, shocked, did not move, and he felt those walls of Darkness wrapping around him again, and he knew then, he'd felt Qui-Gon again, briefly, and it was not this man beneath him, violating his body and his trust in his master.

"Sith," he whispered. Was it Belial, or the other? It hardly mattered, did it, and he felt that tongue at him again, and he fought as well as he was able, scissoring his legs and twisting madly, and the Sith lord rose, still with the face of his master, and his hips were seized and held still.

/Submit to me, Jedi./

/Never./

"Then fight me."

The mask of Qui-Gon wavered and fell away, and there was nothing but those pale colorless eyes, death-cold. They held him in their chill depths, and he was unable to look away.

/Sidious./

/Kenobi./

/Release me./

A spiraling of mirth, twisted and black.

/Jedi...your defiance is futile./

/You will fail, Sidious. I will die before I turn./

"Will you?" Quietly.

The Sith Lord moved behind him, and he felt hard fingers parting him again.

He fought.

/Taste your helplessness, Jedi. You belong to me./

The Darkness was stifling, all around him, and he was drowning.

/Call to your master, Obi-Wan. He comes./

/I will not fear/

/Call to him./

A sudden flare of agony, and he remained silent.

/No/

Hands on his hips, lifting him, and more pain, a blunt, brutal thrusting.

/At last, Obi-Wan/

Still he fought, though it went on forever, and when it was finally over, he sagged in the chains helplessly, no longer able to feel his hands. The numbness was traveling down his arms, and his shoulders were screaming for release.

/That was so sweet, Obi-Wan./ The hands touched him again, and Obi-Wan arched his body away from the touch.

"You still resist me."

"I am a Jedi," whispered Obi-Wan.

"Meaningless words."

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Oh, yes. Let me show you how meaningless..." His words trailed off as he moved away, disappearing into the blackness. Obi-Wan heard the creak and grind of a heavy door, then two sets of footsteps.

Sidious...and Belial.

Belial was stripped to the waist, wearing only tightly-fitting leather leggings. His usual supple movement was gone. He walked as though he were in pain. Obi-Wan looked into his eyes and saw the weariness there.

"He makes you suffer, Belial."

"Silence, " hissed Sidious. "My love...show our young guest the remote."

Belial reached into his waistband and withdrew a small object.

Sidious indicated the remote with a wave of his hand. "This controls the thermal detonator that my apprentice has concealed within the Jedi Council Chamber. The Council is gathered now...it is time that our plans are put into action."

"No!" cried Obi-Wan, fighting the chains once again. Not the Council, he thought, and he clamped down on the fear that assailed him.

"No? Tell me, young Jedi, what would you give for their lives?"

Belial stepped forward and turned the remote over in his hand, his eyes fixed upon Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked from Sidious to Belial.

He knew what answer was expected of him.

Sidious' head turned toward the door. He nodded to Belial, who tucked the remote back inside his waistband and crept toward the door.

"Their lives, Jedi...and your Master's."

 

________________________________________

 

Night had fallen over the Jedi Temple.

Mace Windu leaned forward in his seat, narrowly regarding the other members of the Council.

Qui-Gon, he thought. What I do for you...

It was not the first time he'd pleaded Qui-Gon's cause to the Council, though it certainly was the most challenging...but he'd done well, and the Council had finally concurred on several points: a clone of Obi-Wan Kenobi had been created; that clone had impersonated Obi-Wan, misleading even Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan was in considerable danger, and Qui-Gon had been right to go in search of him.

"We must discover why the bond between Master and Padawan was so weakened," said Ki-Adi-Mundi.

There was silence, then a soft voice.

"I have...a theory," said Depa Billaba.

Mace felt a warm rush of pride as she spoke to the silent Council.

/Well done, Padawan mine./

"It is forbidden," said Even Piell flatly.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is a senior Padawan," said Adi Gallia. "If he were an initiate or a second or third-year apprentice, then I would be concerned. But he is past the age of consent, and so..." she shrugged eloquently.

"On what do you base your theory, Master Billaba?" said Ki-Adi-Mundi.

"On the holodisc, Master," she replied. "Is it not possible that the clone manipulated Qui-Gon, taking advantage of his feelings for his apprentice?"

"And what of the Code?" Plo Koon demanded.

"What of it?" retorted Saesee Tinn. "It is a guide to the Jedi, a source of Light and wisdom. Tell me, Master, how the Code is violated by love between two Jedi Knights."

"You forget that one is not a full Knight."

"As near as makes little difference."

"There is the issue of coercion..."

"If Padawan Kenobi had been coerced, someone...one of the soul-healers, perhaps...would have discerned it."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You doubt the abilities of the soul-healers?"

"You put words into my mouth, Master."

"This is conjecture! We do not know without doubt that Qui-Gon Jinn has these feelings for his apprentice..."

Mace stood and clapped his hands together sharply. "Masters!"

They stared at him, surprised into silence.

He lowered his voice. "If Qui-Gon Jinn fails to return with his apprentice, all these concerns will be for naught. I suggest we all meditate on this, and let the Force guide us." He looked around, dismayed. What is happening here? he thought. The Darkness is pervasive, and we are fighting amongst ourselves.

He looked at Yoda, who had remained silent during the debate. The wizened Jedi Master was gazing at him, and Mace, not for the first time, felt that Yoda knew exactly what he was thinking.

He turned back to the Council.

"Masters...there is more. You know what drew you here tonight...it is Darkness. We all feel it, and the clone is almost certainly the source. Qui-Gon told me that he saw the clone outside this chamber before he was attacked. The droid Guardian was deactivated. Something is wrong...can you not sense it?"

The Councillors nodded or muttered affirmation.

"Was the lock deactivated?" Oppo Rancisis asked.

Eeth Koth rose and walked to the doors. He knelt and placed his hand on the lock.

"The failsafe code has been altered," he announced.

The Council members looked at one another uneasily.

"We must focus," said Yaddle. "Together."

Eeth Koth locked the doors and made his way back to his seat.

There was a hush as each Jedi Master concentrated. It was difficult; the Darkness was an almost palpable presence now, shifting around them, seeming to grow and swell, fighting each of them.

But then, one, two, three...they joined each other, their separate consciousness blending, gaining in strength as each Master linked with one another, holding on firmly, and at last the Light blanketed the room and they searched the past, the trails of Darkness that became a vortex in the center of the room...

Adi Gallia rose to her feet.

"The center stone," she said.

 

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon dropped the freighter out of hyperspace, ignoring the brilliant streaks of light from the stars, a sight that ordinarily never failed to amaze him. He kept his focus on the small planet on his nav-screen.

And there it was.

Its surface was unusually colored...red-streaked black, oddly familiar, and then it came to him.

It looked like the stone he had given Obi-Wan on his thirteenth birthday. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep cleansing breath.

He slowed his approach, adjusting to the gravitational pull of the planet. It looked dead, and as he banked the freighter down, he took in the jagged terrain, the volcanic mountains with their gaping maws pocking the landscape. There was no life at all on the surface of the planet. He frowned and turned to the datascreen.

Sullustans lived underground. Life could not exist on the exterior surface of the planet, and so...principal cities: Denaali. Keis Lar'et. Piringiisi...

Piringiisi.

He reset the autopilot.

Not long now.

It was close, and Qui-Gon picked out an anomaly in the planet's rough composition. A tower, graceful and lovely, jutting out of the stone, completely incongruous.

The emanations of Darkness were overpowering.

He set the freighter down gently at the base of the tower. He throttled the engines back.

And almost cried out as he felt Obi-Wan again, pleading with him, nearly incoherent.

/Obi-Wan?/

Silence again, and Qui-Gon stepped firmly on his anger and fear.

/I am coming, Obi-Wan./

He retrieved two respirators from cargo hold, putting one on and tossing the other into a pack. The atmosphere could not be borne for long. He added more items. A medikit. A rappelling system.

Obi-Wan's lightsaber.

He left the ship, straining to see through the thick clouds. His eyes stung, and he wished he'd brought protective eyewear. He made his way to the base of the tower and circled it. Its diameter was about two hundred meters, and there was no discernible entrance. He looked upwards. No, not likely. There were no handholds; the stone was as slick as glass and the top of the tower was too high to reach even with his rappel.

Glass...

What was one of Master Yoda's favorite sayings...?

"When in doubt, direct your approach should be."

He drew and ignited his saber.

An hour later, Qui-Gon had created a hole large enough to crawl through, and small enough not to cause any structural damage.

He hoped.

He crawled inside.

It was a lift tube, with a maintenance ladder on the opposite wall. Qui-Gon clung to the wall and allowed himself to slide down until his feet hit a narrow ledge. He painstakingly made his way around the tube to the ladder and quickly descended into the blackness.

He'd gone about four hundred meters down before his feet touched solid ground. He ignited his saber again and saw a small door set into the wall. He opened it onto a long, narrow corridor.

The Darkness was so close, and he sensed Obi-Wan's presence now; hurt, weak, with a slight tinge of fear, but there was courage beneath it all and he smiled despite his worry.

/My brave Padawan./

He followed the dark path, and his saber glowed, and it lit his way as he strode unerringly through the gloom.

A turn here, another turn there, and he pulled up short as he came upon two red-robed guards armed with force pikes.

For a moment he considered simply killing them, silently and efficiently. It would be so much easier...no, he thought. There is not just cause. Yet.

/Sleep/

They dropped to the ground.

Qui-Gon stepped over them and grasped the door handle.

He flung the door open, and beheld his apprentice dangling from a set of chains. A black robed figure stood behind him holding a glowing crimson saber to his naked chest. Another flash of red caught his eye. He whirled, saber at the ready.

Belial.

End 18

 

 

C h a p t e r 19

________________________________________

 

There was no sound but the humming of three lightsabers.

Qui-Gon and Belial stood opposing each other, their faces illuminated by their radiant weapons.

"You should not have come here, Qui-Gon," Belial whispered.

Qui-Gon gazed at him steadily.

He had given Obi-Wan a cursory examination. His padawan had lost weight, and there were bruises on his waist and his hips...marks that looked like handprints. A sudden anger seized him. He felt Obi-Wan's tangled emotions: fear for Qui-Gon, frustration at his own powerlessness, hope, and shame.

/Still, my padawan. There is no cause for shame./

His answer was a chuckle from the one who stood behind Obi-Wan, his scarlet blade held nearly close enough to burn the young man's skin.

The Darkness was overwhelming, thick and redolent with evil. Belial had not lied. He was a Sith, but the primary source of the Darkness was not Belial; it was the dark-robed one, the one using his padawan as hostage and human shield. Sith. No honor in that gesture, but there was no honor in evil, Qui-Gon reminded himself.

There would be justice, Qui-Gon thought. He allowed his anger to flow through him and out of him.

"You have come for your apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Fear not, Padawan," Qui-Gon said softly. "I'll have you free soon."

"Your confidence is misplaced, Jinn."

"Release him at once," said Qui-Gon.

"You're a fool, Jedi," said the Dark Lord. "And you are beaten already. Surrender now, and I promise you a quick death."

"If you do not release him, then you force me to destroy you." Qui-Gon moved into a ready stance. Belial followed suit.

Another laugh, and the blade inched closer to Obi-Wan's chest.

"Jedi." The voice was full of contempt. "This boy...is he worth dying for?"

"No," whispered Obi-Wan. "Master, please-" The Sith's arm slipped around Obi-Wan's neck and tightened, cutting off further speech.

Qui-Gon never took his eyes from the clone.

There was a febrile glitter in Belial's eyes. He lifted his chin and smiled at Qui-Gon.

"Worth dying for, yes," said Qui-Gon. "And if I must...worth killing for."

"Yes..." hissed the Sith Lord. "Perhaps he is."

The Dark Lord took his arm from Obi-Wan's neck. The crimson blade moved up to Obi-Wan's throat and a white hand slid over his belly. Obi-Wan bore the touch without protest, though Qui-Gon could sense the young man's distress.

"Take your hand away from him."

The hand slipped lower.

"I sense your rage, Jedi. Release it."

"I do not wish to destroy you."

"No? What about Belial?"

"I do not wish to destroy him either."

Belial stared at Qui-Gon, his expression unfathomable.

"You don't wish to destroy him...what if I told you that he raped your apprentice, Master Jinn? Yes...I feel your anger. Strike him down. Kill him."

"Master?" Belial's eyes flicked toward the Sith Lord.

"Yes, Jedi." The voice was a gleeful whisper. "Kill him."

Qui-Gon felt an unexpected pang of sympathy at the shock and wounded betrayal in the clone's eyes.

He looked at Belial. "You are expendable, young one. The Sith uses you for his own ends, and would discard you when your usefulness is at an end."

"You lie," whispered Belial. The clone's face contradicted his words.

"No, Belial. You know I speak the truth. Search your feelings...surely there is still some Light in you."

Belial's eyes narrowed. He sprang at Qui-Gon and struck the first blow, arcing his saber downward from a high attack position. It was a common maneuver, and Qui-Gon deflected it easily, bringing his own saber up to meet Belial's with a sizzling crash. Qui-Gon shoved Belial back, and Belial stumbled and righted himself quickly.

The two, Jedi Master and Sith clone, circled each other warily.

Qui-Gon noted his opponent's motions. The clone moved gracelessly, and his breathing was shallow.

"What has he done to you, young one?"

"All that he has done," gritted out Belial from between clenched teeth, "is shown me the truth about the Jedi...you are all weak-minded fools. He gives me strength."

"Then why do I sense pain and fear in you?"

Snarling with rage, Belial launched himself at Qui-Gon in deadly earnest. Qui-Gon retreated as the clone's blade advanced upon him in a shower of vicious blows.

Belial was a skilled fighter, and his rage made him even more powerful. Qui-Gon executed a graceful somersault, landing behind Belial, who whirled to meet him, his long braid flying. Their sabers locked, crimson and green, sputtering angrily. Qui-Gon pushed Belial away, his greater size and strength giving him a momentary advantage.

"Belial, " he said, "come back to Coruscant with us. You can be healed." He pitched his voice persuasively, using Force. He felt the clone's mental shields slam up. "Let us help you," he continued. "You can escape this Darkness."

The clone attacked again, saber held high, then feinted and swooped in low. Qui-Gon stumbled back in time to avoid evisceration, barely shying off the aggressive offense.

The Sith standing behind Obi-Wan laughed. Belial glared at Qui-Gon.

"Fool Jedi," he rasped. "Why would I want to go back to Coruscant, back to your mewling clutch of monks? My master has given me more than the Jedi ever could. If only you'd give in to your passions, Qui-Gon, you'd know such power. I could have shared it with you and Obi-Wan...now you force me to kill you."

The pair circled each other slowly.

"You are in need of healing, Belial," Qui-Gon repeated. "Let me help you."

"Help me...how, Jedi? Will you fuck me again? Will you give in to your passions, Qui-Gon?" His voice rose tauntingly.

"Our joining was a mistake, and that you know," Qui-Gon said. "I did it out of love for Obi-Wan."

"And I?"

"Tell me, young one. Why did you do it?"

Belial let out a howl and tore forward, his lightsaber hissing in a flurry of violent thrusts. Qui-Gon parrried his attack, returned the blows, escalated the battle.

The scintillating blades moved with blinding speed, crackling loudly as they made contact. Sparks flew madly; the air filled with the electric, ozone smell of the sabers.

Belial dodged a wide swing and stumbled. Qui-Gon pressed his advantage, striking the clone a blow on his bare swordarm, then again, through his left shoulder. Belial let out a cry, retreated, lost his footing, and fell to the ground. Qui-Gon heard the distinctive snap of a breaking bone. He looked down at Belial as he grimaced in pain, saber held up against him. Qui-Gon lifted his lightsaber. It would be easy to kill him quickly...

"Stop, Jedi...or Obi-Wan will die. I promise you that."

Qui-Gon turned and gazed at the Sith Lord.

"Before you joined us, Master Jinn, Obi-Wan was about to plead for your life, and the life of the Council. Were you not, young Jedi?" The Sith's white hand was fondling Obi-Wan obscenely. Obi-Wan's eyes were closed, his head tilted back. His bound hands were clenched, and he made no sound. Once again, Qui-Gon felt his shame and frustration.

/No, Padawan. No cause./

Another laugh.

"Belial..."

Qui-Gon's gaze swiveled to the clone, who still lay on the floor, his face twisted in pain. Belial slowly tugged a small black object from the waistband of his leggings with his free hand, his saber still activated.

A remote.

Qui-Gon knew then the reason for Belial's presence outside the Council Chamber.

"Your choice, Kenobi. Join me, and your Master and the Council will live...defy me, and they will die."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at Qui-Gon, his face a picture of utter misery and pain.

Qui-Gon would not send to Obi-Wan. The Sith had intercepted all of Qui-Gon's mental communication. Instead, he looked at Obi-Wan tranquilly, allowing his eyes to speak for him.

Courage, my Obi-Wan.

 

________________________________________

 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at his master.

How can I choose? How can I condemn the Council to death?

And Qui-Gon?

Qui-Gon's eyes were fixed upon his, blue and fearless and full of warmth...and love.

He made his choice.

 

________________________________________

 

Obi-Wan twisted slightly.

"If I joined you, Sidious," he said, his voice full of strength and clarity of purpose, "I would do the Council, and my Master, a greater disservice than if I killed each of them with my own hands. I am a Jedi, dedicated to the Light...and I will never join you. Never."

Qui-Gon smiled.

"That is your choice?" The Dark Lord's voice was ominously soft.

"Yes."

"So be it...Jedi. My apprentice...kill them."

Qui-Gon turned to leap at Belial, to take the remote. A wall of Darkness stopped him, held him still.

Belial, only half-conscious, thumbed the switch on the remote.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes.

There was silence.

Qui-Gon concentrated, bracing himself for the devastation, the passage of the greatest minds of the Jedi Order.

There is no death...

"There is the Force." A murmur.

Obi-Wan...he wheeled.

Obi-Wan's eyes were shining.

Oh, gods, oh gods...he was there, his padawan, and his eyes were alight with joy, summersea eyes, beautiful, and unafraid, searing death mere centimeters from him and still unafraid. Jedi to the core.

/Master/

/My Obi-Wan/

The Light surrounded them, and Qui-Gon's face broke into a smile.

"They live."

The crimson blade at Obi-Wan's throat dipped. "What...?"

"The Council lives, Sith. You have failed."

There was a brief, bitter laugh from the floor. Qui-Gon glanced down at the clone, whose lips were set in a mirthless grin.

Qui-Gon felt the dark ripple as the Sith Lord stretched out and sought the truth.

"No." A strangled whisper, choked with rage and hate.

"You failed, Master." Belial's voice, a hoarse whisper."No."

The saber fell from Obi-Wan's throat.

The Sith's hold on Qui-Gon was broken. Swifter than sight, Qui-Gon leapt forward and sliced through Obi-Wan's chains with one clean motion. Obi-Wan dropped to the floor, and Darth Sidious was unprotected.

Another wall of Force picked Qui-Gon up and slammed him into the opposite wall. When Qui-Gon struggled to his feet, the Sith was gone.

Qui-Gon rushed to Obi-Wan, who had stood shakily. Quickly he stripped off his robe and draped it over Obi-Wan's shoulders.

"Padawan," he said. "Are you hurt?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, Master. Darth Sidious...we have to stop him."

Qui-Gon hesitated. Obi-Wan was injured, he couldn't possibly pursue the Sith...

He unclipped Obi-Wan's lightsaber from his belt and handed it to him.

"You stay here. Guard Belial. We'll take him back with us."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again.

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon flew out of the room and down the corridor.

 

________________________________________

 

Darth Sidious slipped wraithlike into his private hangar. It was empty but for a young Iridonian Zabrak, who was cleaning the aft of a small, sleek ship, the MARAUDER.

"You!" Sidious snapped. "Is this ship prepared for takeoff?"

"Yes, my Lord." The Zabrakian's face was carefully respectful.

"Set a course for Coruscant. Now."

He boarded the ship and watched the young pilot make efficient, hasty preparations for departure. Minutes later, they blasted out of the hangar. Shortly, Sullust was behind them, and the stars were pale streaks as they made the jump to hyperspace.

Sidious allowed himself to relax, though his heart was filled with rage.

You have deprived me of an apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn, and you and your padawan will pay for that. Some day, you will both pay for that. You have cost me years and tremendous expense, and now I must find a new apprentice. You will pay.

He sat back in his chair and meditated.

The young Zabrakian made his way to the passenger lounge where the Dark Lord sat.

"We will reach Coruscant in approximately nine hours, my Lord." His voice was soft and deep.

The Dark Lord regarded the young man thoughtfully.

He felt a strong ripple of Force.

He smiled briefly.

"Sit," he invited the young man.

 

________________________________________

 

Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and walked over to where Belial lay.

The clone's face was white, and his eyes were closed. The wounds on his arm and shoulder had been cauterized by the intense heat of Qui-Gon's blade, but they were serious. He would need healers, and quickly. His still-lit saber was clutched in his hand.

"Well, Jedi," he rasped, "I congratulate you. You have defeated me."

"Your Master has abandoned you, Belial." Obi-Wan's heart was heavy. Belial had chosen the dark path, but Sidious had manipulated him all along. Who could say whether the clone's choice was his own? He looked at the still white face...so like his own.

His dark twin.

Belial's eyes opened.

"Why don't you kill me, Obi-Wan? I know it's what you've wanted to do for days now..." his voice shook.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Perhaps I did. But I was wrong. Qui-Gon was right. You can be healed."

Belial sat up slowly. Obi-Wan backed up. He was weak, but Belial was weaker. If he had to overpower him, so be it.

Belial smiled at him, and there was a sweetness in that smile despite the agony in his eyes.

His twin...

Obi-Wan felt the sting of tears behind his eyes.

"Belial...how much of me is there in you?"

The clone gave a little hitching laugh.

"Not enough, Jedi. Not enough."

Suddenly, with stunning speed, Belial lifted his blade and drew it across his throat.

"NO!" Obi-Wan leapt toward him as he slumped over on his side. The lightsaber clattered onto the stone floor, deactivated.

Obi-Wan knelt on the floor and lifted the clone into his arms. Blue-green eyes met, held each other.

Belial raised a hand.

"...loved..."

The cold hand found Obi-Wan's.

Belial's eyes went wide and sightless.

 

________________________________________

 

Qui-Gon returned to the chamber, panting for breath.

"He got away, Pada-"

He stopped short. Belial lay in the center of the floor, his eyes closed, an ugly gash across his throat. Obi-Wan had stripped the still-sleeping guards of their cloaks and had surrounded the clone with torn strips of the fabric.

"Belial's dead, Master."

Qui-Gon didn't reply.

Obi-Wan took the torch from the wall and poured the torch oil on the torn cloaks. He silently handed the torch to Qui-Gon, picked up Belial's saber and placed it in the clone's hands. Then he took the torch back from Qui-Gon and touched it to the fabric. It ignited immediately, surrounding Belial in flames. Obi-Wan stepped back and folded his arms, the chains clinking on his wrists.

He stood apart from Qui-Gon, lost in the voluminous black robe, his face somber.

Qui-Gon remained silent. There was much to say, so much, but now was not the time.They watched the flames consume the body of Darth Belial together. Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon hesitantly.

"Master..."

Qui-Gon faced his padawan slowly.

Obi-Wan's mouth trembled.

"Obi-Wan."

He opened his arms, and Obi-Wan was there, clutching him convulsively, and he wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the young man's hair, not bothering to hide his tears. They held each other tightly, not letting go, each taking comfort in the other, seeking refuge, seeking Light, seeking love, and finding it in each other.

/You are safe now, my padawan. My beloved./

/Safe./

Qui-Gon looked down at Obi-Wan, and his heart tightened. Obi-Wan's face was happy, happier than he'd seen in years, despite his ordeal, despite the pain and anguish he'd suffered.

And the cause of that happiness?

Qui-Gon shook his head unbelievingly.

/Yes./

And Obi-Wan kissed him, and the Force washed over them, sweet and pure and alive with power and Light, and their tears mingled as he returned the kiss, certain that he had never been happier in his entire life.

/Let's go home, Padawan./

/Yes, Master...home./

end 19

 

C h a p t e r 20

________________________________________

 

Black storm clouds billowed and a pounding rain swept the Jedi Temple as two men emerged from a small freighter. The first man was tall, bearded, with long hair and dark garments. He stepped off the ramp and waited for his companion, a young man wearing a black robe many sizes too large. The young man was barefoot.

Their faces were solemn, and they did not speak.

The pair made their way into the Temple, to the Council Chamber.

 

________________________________________

 

The Council was silent as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked to the center of the room and bowed.

Mace Windu broke the silence, as was customary.

"We welcome you back to the Temple, Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi."

They murmured acknowledgements.

"Padawan Kenobi...we are thankful that you are safe."

"Thank you, Master."

Mace scrutinized Obi-Wan intently. "You will see the healers immediately. The Council will need to gather as much information as possible as to the identity of your abductor, and when you are ready, your help will be required." He softened his voice somewhat. "Obi-Wan...you have been through a grave ordeal, and we will focus upon your healing above all else."

"With respect, Master...I feel confident in my ability to help you at once."

Mace's eyebrows shot up. He exchanged a glance with Depa Billaba, who smiled at him.

"Very well. Master Gallia?" Adi Gallia stood and walked toward Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

"We go to the healers first, Padawan. Then to my offices."

Obi-Wan bowed his head. "Yes, Master."

As Adi Gallia propelled Obi-Wan toward the door, she gave Qui-Gon's arm a brief squeeze.

Qui-Gon returned the touch affectionately.

The door closed silently. Qui-Gon waited until they had closed completely before he spoke.

"Masters...I am glad that you found the detonator in time."

"There was little time, Master Jinn. The Force was with us. We were able to focus and neutralize the device shortly before the remote was triggered," said Oppo Rancisis softly.

"Your warning to Master Windu saved us," said Yaddle.

"I am honored to have served you, Masters."

"Qui-Gon," said Mace, "your communication from Sullust has caused us great concern. Do you truly believe that Padawan Kenobi's abductors were Sith?"

"I am certain of it."

"And was your apprentice aware of this during his captivity?"

"He was," Qui-Gon confirmed.

Yoda nodded, gazing at Qui-Gon.

"A thousand years they have been gone," he said. "Yet, extinct they are not."

"You believe this to be true, Master Yoda?" said Ki-Adi-Mundi.

"You felt the Darkness...we all did," said Even Piell. "The Dark Side was at work, and with concentrated strength such as I've never felt before. I believe Qui-Gon is correct."

"Why have we never felt this before?" mused Plo Koon.

"The Dark Side is hard to see," Eeth Koth reminded him.

"Obi-Wan spoke of a plot," said Qui-Gon. Debate all you like, Masters, he thought. I know what I saw and felt...as does Obi-Wan. Dismiss me, so I may tell Obi-Wan that I can be his Master no longer.

His sadness was tempered by resignation. I did what I did, he thought. I acted in a manner unbecoming a Jedi Knight. That I took selfish and brutal pleasure with Obi-Wan's clone is irrelevant. There is no excuse, and I shall have to tell Obi-Wan. I don't know how I shall tell him, but I must. He will have a new Master...perhaps Mace can take over his instruction for a few years...

"We found evidence of massive armed mobilization on Yrrna," said Plo Koon. "Unfortunately, all those in command and most of the forces had fled by the time the Jedi arrived, leaving only trace clues. Nevertheless, the Yrrna situation is now under control, and the Senate is on alert for similar activity."

"Will that be enough?" asked Qui-Gon.

"It will have to be...for now. There are too few Jedi and thousands of known systems. The Senate must help us. The individual systems must help themselves."

"We must examine all facets of this situation, Qui-Gon," said Mace. "And Obi-Wan must be examined as well."

"If your intent is to search for Darkness...you will find none. Obi-Wan acquitted himself with more courage than I have ever seen in my life. He acted in accordance with the Code, and he was fully in tune with the Force."

"We must be cautious, Qui-Gon," said Mace.

Qui-Gon bowed his head, recognizing their prudence. He had no doubts about Obi-Wan's loyalty.

"Masters, I ask you for his sake...be careful with him. There are many things he endured...and there is much I still do not know about his ordeal. I did not want to press him too soon."

"Padawan Kenobi is strong in the Force," observed Eeth Koth.

"He is," returned Qui-Gon. "Stronger than anyone suspected. He survived overwhelming adversity, and emerged the more powerful for it."

"We see this."

Qui-Gon nodded and unlatched his saber from his belt. There was little more to be said. Obi-Wan was safe. The Council would investigate the plot against the Republic. His work was done. His time as a Jedi was at an end.

"Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon turned to face Depa Billaba.

He had always considered her one of the most brilliant and compassionate minds on the Council. It had wounded him almost beyond endurance when she had scorned him in the Chamber days before. No more than I deserved, he thought, steeling himself.

"Master Jinn...days ago you stood before us in this chamber and accepted the judgment of the Council."

"I did."

"The Council wishes to withdraw that judgment."

Qui-Gon was absolutely still.

The Council members looked at Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon stared ahead unseeingly, feeling their concentration.

"Qui-Gon," Depa said, "The integrity of the Jedi Order has been attacked. If the clone was truly Sith, then we must all be on our guard, for we know that they moved against us, and in the form of one of our own. Were it not for you, we would not have discovered the clone's motives, and Padawan Kenobi would still be in the hands of the Sith."

"But, Master...my actions..."

"You were most unfairly deceived, Master Jinn," said Saesee Tinn. "The clone exploited your feelings for your padawan."

Qui-Gon stared at him, stunned.

"Tried to tell us, did you not?" said Yoda.

Qui-Gon stood silently. It was out now, and there was another breach of the Code, another reason for his expulsion. Well, he thought, I've gone this far...

"I did, my Master."

"The Council has conferred regarding this matter," said Mace. "We have determined that in this case, Padawan Kenobi is of an age to make his own decision, should you request any union with him."

Qui-Gon, nodding, hid a smile. Mace, being oblique again. Still, it was preferable to outright vulgarity.

"Have a care, Master Jinn," cautioned Even Piell sternly. "It is conceivable that Obi-Wan's feelings for you now might simply be gratitude that you rescued him from a life-threatening situation. You must not take advantage of that."

"No, Master."

"Master Jinn," said Depa Billaba, "we ask your forgiveness."

Silence fell over the Council Chamber.

Qui-Gon's hands tightened on the hilt of his lightsaber.

"Masters...you have it."

"Go, then," said Mace, "and may the Force be with you."

Qui-Gon bowed and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he stopped.

He'd almost forgotten...

He turned and walked to Yoda's chair. Dropping to one knee, he bowed his head.

"I thank you for your guidance, my Master."

He got up and left the chamber, his heart light.

The door hissed shut.

Ten pairs of curious eyes were focused on Yoda.

The Jedi Master looked around, ever so slightly discomfited.

"Hmph."

He got off his chair and plodded away.

The meeting was adjourned.

 

________________________________________

 

Obi-Wan opened the door to his and Qui-Gon's rooms and trudged inside. He lay wearily on the couch and flung an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the light. Had it only been mere days since he'd been dragged from this room? It seemed like years...

He sat up. He was exhausted, and ravenous, he realized. He hadn't had a proper meal in days. He stood and went to the cooler and rummaged out a quantity of food...cheese, bread, fruit, some fish...he stood at the counter and ate, not really tasting anything. He washed it down with cold tea and went back to the couch, picking up a datapad that Adi Gallia had given him, the Jedi's findings on Yrrna.

He looked listlessly at the pad, and heard a noise, a murmur. He looked up, adrenaline coursing through his body. The noise was repeated and he relaxed slowly, realizing that it was Qui-Gon, mumbling in his sleep. He must have returned hours before.

He smiled, and all at once the smile died. How long before I feel safe in my own rooms, he thought. How long before the nightmares disappear?

And how can I face myself again? And Qui-Gon...

His earlier happiness had diminished, and agony gnawed at his insides.

He stared at the datapad, trying to focus on it, but he kept reading the same sentence over and over again. Frustrated, he put the pad down and lay on the couch again. Something hard jammed into his side, and he reached into the interior pocket of Qui-Gon's black robe and withdrew a tiny holoprojector. He flipped it on and an image rose...Qui-Gon and himself, at the Djais wedding, their arms thrown about each other.

He set it down on the table and stared at it until he fell asleep.

 

________________________________________

 

It was early morning when Qui-Gon rose, yawning and threading fingers through his loosened hair, and went into the common room. He glanced out the window. It was still raining, and the sky was still black. Through the walls he heard thunder. It was a comforting sound.

The lights were on, and Obi-Wan lay on the couch, huddled in his robe.

He can't be comfortable there all night, thought Qui-Gon, and bent down to lift him from the couch.

Obi-Wan, sensing the movement or the presence of another being, flew up with a low, wild cry, his face white, his arms flung out. Seeing Qui-Gon, he flushed and sat back on the couch.

Cursing himself silently, Qui-Gon lowered himself onto the couch. "I'm sorry, Padawan. I'd thought to take you to your own bed."

Obi-Wan pulled the robe more tightly around himself. "I'm fine, Master."

"I'm sorry to have woken you."

"No...I've slept enough, I think." He rose and walked to the 'fresher, closing the door behind him.

Qui-Gon sat and gazed at the holo of himself and Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan emerged from the 'fresher a half hour later. His hair was wet, and he'd shaved his beard, and at that moment, still lost in Qui-Gon's robe, he looked like a padawan of thirteen again, hopeful, alert, impossibly young...but for his eyes.

This was no boy, thought Qui-Gon. His stomach lurched at the thought of what he had to say to him.

Hoping to forestall the inevitable, he said, "How was the meeting with Master Gallia?"

"She is contacting some of her operatives. They are examining the sublevel hold, and she has already sent Master Tren and Padawan Muln to Sullust to investigate there."

"And your session with the healers?"

Obi-Wan's face was neutral. "It went as well as could be expected. There will be no permanent damage."

He sat on the couch next to Qui-Gon and began to comb out his braid. The sleeves of the robe fell and Qui-Gon saw the slowly healing welts on Obi-Wan's wrists. Frowning, Qui-Gon reached out and caught Obi-Wan's hand in his.

"The healers neglected your wrists, Padawan."

"No, Master," said Obi-Wan softly, extracting his hand.

"No?"

"I asked them to leave them alone." The carefully neutral mask had slipped, and Obi-Wan's face was disconsolate.

"May I ask why, Padawan?"

"The scars are a reminder of my cowardice."

"What?"

Obi-Wan faced Qui-Gon, and his expression was anguished. "While I was a prisoner, I did nothing. Nothing to free myself, nothing to reason with my captors. I gave in to my fear, and it almost destroyed me...and the Council...indeed, the Republic itself." He laughed bitterly, and the laugh sounded very much like a sob. He stopped, gained control of himself, and looked at Qui-Gon. "Had you not been there, Master, I might have betrayed all that I believed in, just to end the pain."

Qui-Gon reached out again and took Obi-Wan by the shoulders.

"Obi-Wan...how can you think that?"

"It's true."

"It is NOT true. You were preyed upon by agents of the Dark Side. They worked on you ceaselessly...no, you don't have to tell me. I felt it. I felt it in you, and I felt it in them. It was evil, Obi-Wan, and you never stopped fighting it. If you had, you would be with them still. You battled darkness and won. If I were not there, you would not have betrayed all that you believed...but I am glad that I was there, for they would have killed you for resisting. And that I could not bear.

"Wear the scars, Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon, lifting his hand again and kissing the livid marks, " because they are not a symbol of cowardice. They are a testament to your courage."

Obi-Wan looked at him, a faint hope flaring in his eyes.

"Master, I..." he could not go on.

"Obi-Wan...you are a Jedi, now and forever." He leaned forward and kissed the young man's forehead, and Obi-Wan flung himself at Qui-Gon, embracing him with amazing strength.

"Thank you, Master. Thank you."

Qui-Gon held him, his heart filled with pride, hurt, and love.

Oh, my Obi-Wan. There is still so much more...

He decided to tell him now. Why put it off any longer, he thought.

"Obi-Wan...there are things I must say."

"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan's voice was muffled against Qui-Gon's sleep-tunic. Qui-Gon gently disentangled himself from Obi-Wan's grasp.

"Please, my padawan...this is not going to be easy for me to say." He stopped suddenly. He'd made a similar declaration to Belial days ago.

Thus the reason for this confession.

Oh, the irony...

"Obi-Wan," he said, "Do you recall Belial's words during our battle?"

"Every word, Master." Obi-Wan's face was grim.

"I thought as much. You will remember, then, that Belial made an allusion to a physical relationship between us."

Obi-Wan stared at him. Oh, gods, thought Qui-Gon, this was going to be worse than he thought.

"Obi-Wan...Belial spoke the truth. He and I..." He struggled for his next words.

Obi-Wan lay a hand on his arm. "I know, Master."

"He told you?" Why am I surprised, Qui-Gon thought somewhat bitterly.

"No...I saw. He...he made me watch."

"Oh, Obi-Wan...my Padawan...I am so sorry. Forgive me."

"Master," said Obi-Wan, shaking his head, "there is nothing to forgive. Nothing. I heard what you said to Belial...about the bond...which was as much my fault as it was yours. No...let me finish. It was my fault as much as it was yours. I saw you make love to him...I saw the holo that caused your ejection from the Order-"

So he saw that, too, thought Qui-Gon. And yet he is not angry with me.

Obi-Wan continued. "I saw all that, Master. Belial showed me, and it was worse than the physical pain, worse than being cut off from the Force, knowing that you had been deceived, knowing that you were a victim of his machinations-"

I was a victim, and he hurt for me...how much more compassion, how much more bravery could Obi-Wan display before Qui-Gon simply broke down and wept for him?

"-and I knew that the love you felt was for me, and I was afraid, afraid that I would never see you again, afraid that we would never..." Obi-Wan trailed off, looking at his scarred wrists.

Qui-Gon pressed him to the couch and kissed him.

Oh, it was sweetness, incomparable sweetness, and how could he have mistaken the clone for Obi-Wan? His mouth was lovely, like honey, and he kissed Qui-Gon with an endearing shyness, his mouth yielding, opening like a blossom, and finally his tongue found its way into Qui-Gon's mouth, soft and utterly delightful, and becoming more insistent, more demanding, until they were locked together, holding each other with all their strength.

Obi-Wan broke away. His breath was rapid, and his face was flushed.

"Love me. Love me, Master. Please," he begged, trailing kisses down the exposed length of Qui-Gon's throat and chest.

"Obi-Wan, it's too soon, you've not recovered yet-"

"I will," he said. "I will...heal me, love me...I need you to love me."

"My love...it's too soon." Even Piell's words echoed in his head.

"No, Master. I am well, I am...help me heal." His voice was roughened and desperately longing, and his legs wound around Qui-Gon and he began to move rhythmically beneath him. Qui-Gon groaned aloud. His penis was achingly hard and he wanted to take the boy right there on the couch. He felt Obi-Wan's erection pressing into him. Slowly he rose from the couch, pulling away from Obi-Wan, who let out a low cry of frustration.

"Oh, Master, please, please...why not?"

Qui-Gon put out a hand. "The bedroom, my beloved."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened, and he took Qui-Gon's outstretched hand and let him lead the way into the bedroom.

Obi-Wan let the black robe drop. His penis was erect, curving up toward his stomach, and the red scars stood out against that pale skin. He smiled shyly at Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon returned the smile, unfastening his tunic, kicking off his leggings. finally standing splendidly naked in the soft light of Qui-Gon's bedroom.

Obi-Wan caught his breath shakily, feeling dizzy. Years he'd dreamed of this moment, and now it was almost too much. He sat on Qui-Gon's disarrayed bed. Qui-Gon sat next to him, and Obi-Wan turned toward him suddenly, reaching out. Qui-Gon held him an arm's length away.

"Slow, Obi-Wan...my Obi-Wan..." and he leaned forward and caught Obi-Wan's mouth in another kiss, and pushed him gently back until Obi-Wan lay beneath him on the bed, on the disarrayed sheets. Obi-Wan's hands floated up to travel the skin of his shoulders, his arms...Qui-Gon's hands, firm, warm, and skillful, found the young man's torso, glided gently down, to his flanks, back up again, down again, slipping underneath and cupping his ass, grasping with an infinitely tender pressure that was more than Obi-Wan could bear. He cried out beneath Qui-Gon's mouth, that exploring tongue, and pumped his hips, their erections meeting, sliding against each other, agonizingly pleasurable.

Qui-Gon released his mouth and began to scatter kisses down Obi-Wan's throat, the nape of his neck, his clavicle, his shoulders. His tongue trailed over the pale skin, back up to the cleft of Obi-Wan's chin--how he loved that cleft, that delicate depression---and down again.

"Tell me you love me," gasped Obi-Wan.

"I love you," whispered Qui-Gon. His mouth found Obi-Wan's nipple. "Only you." The other nipple. "Always you."

"I love you...Qui-Gon...I love you...ohhh..."

Down the flat stomach, around the sensitive cup of the navel, and Obi-Wan pumped his hips again, his hands thrashing helplessly. Oh, the feel of his mouth, his lips, his tongue, the slight scrape of his beard, his heated flesh, that silken hair, maddening pleasure...

Down, at last, to his penis, glistening, drops of moisture at its tip. Qui-Gon's tongue flicked over it, and Obi-Wan let out a guttural cry, pure wanting.

"I'm going to...I'm..."

"I want you to, Obi-Wan."

"No...no...inside me...inside..." and Obi-Wan turned over, moaning.

Qui-Gon reached into the bedside table and located the small pot of herbal oil. He slicked it over his penis and his hand. Obi-Wan writhed on the bed, drawing his knees up.

"Now, Master...now..."

Qui-Gon's fingers found that tender opening, slid inside, careful not to damage tissue so recently healed.

Obi-Wan gasped.

"Did I hurt you, my love?"

"No...it's wonderful...please..."

Deeper, deeper, until Qui-Gon was sure that Obi-Wan was prepared. He straddled him, and the tip of his penis sought entry into those tight muscles under that soft skin, and he entered slowly, so slowly, until he thought he would die from the need, and finally he was in, Obi-Wan's body gripping him, shockingly exquisite, and he began to rock his hips against Obi-Wan, who found his rhythm, met it, and their bodies ground together, languid at first, then becoming more and more urgent. Qui-Gon's hand curled around Obi-Wan's penis and stroked it deeply, from its head to Obi-Wan's balls, and he felt as though he was plunging into a warm, endless, and silent sea, the smoothness of the skin beneath him and their deep breaths and occasional cries, and they came, one after another, his semen exploding inside Obi-Wan's body, claiming him, taking possession, giving himself, his Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan....

 

________________________________________

 

They lay together in Qui-Gon's bed, the sheets even more wildly disarrayed than before, pungent with the smell of sex and their bodies, lavishly intertwined limbs sprawling over the bed.

Obi-Wan drew back and looked at Qui-Gon, who slept peacefully. He burrowed into his arms, kissing the broad chest. Qui-Gon awoke.

"Sorry, Master."

"Sorry for what, my dear one...waking me? Fie upon you." Qui-Gon grinned at him.

Obi-Wan laughed, a precious thing from his serious padawan. Qui-Gon's arms tightened around Obi-Wan.

I will never let you go, my love. Never again. There was still healing needed, and the road to Obi-Wan's recovery would not be entirely smooth...it would take time.

And somewhere out there was a Sith Lord, and as long as there was, they could not be complacent.

But they were Jedi. They would trust in the Force. It would give them strength.

Qui-Gon looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, velvet blue and summer sea.

"How are you, my Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan smiled at Qui-Gon, and all the stars of the galaxy were in his eyes.

"Safe."

 

________________________________________

 

Epilogue...three years later.

Finis Valorum looked at the Senator sitting opposite him.

"I am grateful for your assistance in this matter, Chancellor," the Senator was saying. "And I am confident that your ambassadors will resolve this matter quickly. That they are Jedi is an unexpected bonus."

"Indeed, Senator Palpatine...I am sure that Naboo's problems will soon come to an end."

"Indeed they will," said Senator Palpatine, a broad smile creasing his face. "Indeed they will."

 

end.


End file.
